New World 2
by Alestrel
Summary: The Poppy Tales bk 7: the sequel to New World.
1. Homecoming

**Part 1 - Homecoming**

"Poppy!"

Poppy grinned and opened her arms as Jacinta hurried - in slow motion - to greet her. The Australian was shorter than she'd imagined - probably due to her Asian heritage. Behind her the PA, Amanda Mullane, grinned and waved with the hand that wasn't carrying a very large documents case.

Jacinta hugged Poppy hard.

"It's great to meet you! This is so _cool_!"

Since Poppy had already spent getting on for two months as lunar consul, it had been decided to bring forward the inauguration a little and have the consuls take turns as of now, but initially only for a one month shift, until they'd all had a shot and their reactions and suitability assessed. Jacinta had drawn the second place.

"I'll show you around, introduce you, and get you settled. Then, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back."

Jacinta nodded. "Of course. We all heard what happened. How are they?"

"Alive and improving. We won't know the long-term damage for a while though."

The Australian patted Poppy's shoulder sympathetically. "We're all barracking for them."

Poppy blinked. "Uh... you mean rooting?"

Jacinta blushed and giggled, then inclined her head.

"Language barrier? Barracking is supporting them, hoping they get better."

"Ah right! Means the opposite in the UK." She eyed the other woman. "All right. So what does 'rooting' mean over there?"

"Ummmm..."

Poppy raised a hand. "It's fine, I can guess." She grinned as Valiant ambled up behind his human and waved at her. In the sterile white of the base he stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. "Hello Val. Been taking good care of Jacinta?"

"Too right I 'ave, sheila!"

"Glad to hear it..." she ushered them into the mess, which now served as the rec room and where those not working usually gathered. Grant was waiting for them, and shook Jacinta's hand.

"Good to meet you, Consul. I've been appointed liaison between you and the staff, so if you need anything, just let me know."

"Thanks. Right now I'd just like to see the consulate quarters - and tie this back!" She tugged at her hair, which was plastering itself all over her face. "I should have thought."

Poppy chuckled and indicated her own hairband. "You get used to it! Plait will probably work best for you." She grinned at Amanda, whose hair was too short to need tying. "Come this way."

She led them to the Consulate, where Jacinta squealed with delight when she saw the viewing windows.

"Oh this is just _perfect_! We're going to be happy here."

"It's very comfortable, and there's a constant, dedicated link with Ramp, and through him to all the other consuls." Poppy looked around the consulate and nodded. "It's surprisingly comfortable, all things considered. The only things you need to watch are eating and drinking. The low gravity does strange things to liquids, and it took me ages to get used to drinking everything with a straw. But the food is good, and Muncher's doing a great job of keeping the base supplied with fresh stuff. I'll introduce you to him before I leave."

"'Preciate it. Are the cars going back with you?"

"They are." She frowned. "They don't want me to take any risks, they say. Though why I need two guards is beyond me. I thought the danger was over now."

"Better safe than sorry."

"I suppose." She glanced up as 'Beat stuck his helm through the door, and gestured to a large pack and a briefcase sitting just inside. "Thanks 'Beat. If you could get those into Skyfire, I won't be too long."

"No problem. They're still unloading supplies. He won't be ready to leave for another hour."

"Oh, well in that case I'll show Jacinta the greenhouse."

As 'Beat lifted the bags, Val nudged him with his elbow. 'Beat stared at the elbow, then up at the Valiant.

"Yes?"

"Got somethin' for ya, cobber." He handed over a datachip. "Collection of me favourite tunes. From Cannibal Corpse, Sadist, Disembowelment, Cephalic Carnage, Suffocation, Gorefest - all on there."

'Beat stared at the chip as though it might bite him, then managed a somewhat sour-sounding "Thanks. I'm sure we'll find it... interesting."

"You do that, mate!" He sketched a lazy salute and headed off towards the docking bay, where Stronghold was supervising the offloading of some specialised equipment Muncher had requested. 'Beat shook his helm and followed him with Poppy's luggage.

Poppy made her farewells and left Jacinta and Amanda with Muncher, who was delighted to show them around his 'realm'. Gathering up Livewire she headed briskly for Skyfire, now eager to get home. And see Phil and Graham, though that would have to wait until tomorrow: they were both still in decontamination and under the watchful eyes of at least two specialists. But she'd been told she would be able to visit them in person, so it seemed there wasn't any physical risk to other people. Which had to be good, right?

"Hello Poppy." Skyfire's deep, warm voice was a welcome reminder of home as she settled herself into her seat. "It's good to see you again. I'm told you have been missed."

"I've certainly missed everyone!" And Yule, and Xmas, and New Year at Iacon House. It had been a bleak midwinter. Although the crew at the base had done what they could to make the place cheerful and Xmassy with a tree and little gifts they'd bought last time they'd been to earth, and they'd had slightly odd-tasting champagne from the squeezy packs with the straws to see in the New Year (holding it at midnight on 31st of December UK time in honour of Poppy). It had been a brave attempt, and Poppy was flattered and honoured. They were a fine bunch of people, and she'd made a mental note to stay in touch with them unofficially as well as in her role as Consul.

"Our flight will take four hours, and we will arrive at six in the morning, local time. If you wish to rest, I can change your seat configuration, blank the windows and dim the lighting, if that will help?"

"Thank you, Skyfire, but I'm too excited to sleep. I'd like to watch earth getting bigger ."

"Of course." The starcraft widened his forwards window a little and closed all hatches. Stronghold and 'Beat joined Poppy in the main cabin and settled themselves in their own seats while Livewire sat in Poppy's lap and held onto her safety straps. "All secure?"

At the chorus of affirmatives he slowly took off, reorientated himself and headed earthwards...

xxx

Meanwhile, on earth Beverley had been busy.

By mutual agreement the Consulate staff, teachers and students staying over the holiday period had delayed both Xmas and the New Year celebrations until 'their Poppy' had returned. The decorations and tree were still in place, the latter with everyone presents under it, and Steamy had had a wonderful couple of days getting a veritable feast organised.

Ramp alerted them to Skyfire's approach five minutes before the starcraft arrived, so everyone had time to get outside but not have to wait there too long in the bitter wind that had blown all day, and everyone - including the transformers - let out a deafening cheer as 'Beat jumped out and reached back to lift Poppy down to the ground. She grinned at them all, and bent to pick up Steamy who was doing his usual madly excited puppy impersonation and trying to trip her up.

"Missed me, I gather."

She laughed at the loud chorus of "YES!", then shivered as a particularly icy blast of wind wrapped itself around her. The lunar bodysuit was not designed for earthly weather.

'Beat ushered her inside, leaving Stronghold to carry the luggage, then Beverley suggested she have a shower and take a nap: they'd wake her at ten for brunch. And much as she wanted to talk to everyone, the heavier gravity and the stress of the last few weeks was dragging her down. She nodded, yawning.

"I think I'll have to." Walking was hard, but she made herself do it. The sooner she got back to earth normal the better. "Then everyone can tell me what's been happening."

xxx

It felt strange showering in properly flowing water and sleeping in a normal bed, but she managed it, and felt a little better when Livewire woke her up with a steaming mug of chocolate with her favourite tiny marshmallows floating on the top.

"Drink it carefully, and when you get up, take everything slowly for a couple of days while you readapt."

Poppy nodded at the little transformer, although she'd already guessed that would be the best procedure. She hadn't been on the moon for long enough to cause any real problems, but she'd rather not fall and break something!

"I don't suppose Cybertronian science came up with some sort of gravity generator, did it?"

Livewire inclined his head.

"I don't know. Vault might - shall I ask him?"

"No, that's OK, I'll have a word with him myself, later." She stretched, then drank the chocolate. "Mmmm... I've missed this."

"But you enjoyed yourself, didn't you?"

"Oh yes. It was a wonderful experience and I'm looking forward to my next shift there. The timing was just bad." She put down the mug and eased herself out of the bed, quickly dressing - loose casual. It felt so good after the bodysuits! - and making her way down to the lounge...

... where she was met by paté on toast, popping champagne corks and New Year confetti. Laughing she took a plate of the toast and happily accepted a flute of the sparkling wine.

"Happy New Year, Poppy!" 'Spin clinked his beaker of energon against her glass. "We are all tho happy you're back."

"Thank you." She gazed around the room, smiling at the tree and the decorations. Aaron handed her a gift-wrapped parcel.

"Sorry you couldn't take it with you. It's from all the staff."

Poppy put down glass and plate and, curious, took off the wrapping. Inside was a box, and inside the box...

She lifted the tunic out, eyes widening. The fabric looked vaguely silky, but it felt... actually it felt like water flowing through the fingers. The colour shifted subtly between rich blue, dark turquoise and deep green. It was beautiful, and she said as much. Aaron grinned.

"It's the first of its kind. The material's a Cybertronian/earth hybrid. It's not that easy to make, but the bosses think that it could do well as an exclusive luxury item."

"It's amazing!" Poppy held it against her - it would be loose and flowing on her, and wonderfully cool. "It's going to be fantastic to wear."

"We won't ask you to try it on right now."

Poppy quirked an eyebrow. "Thanks for that... Now, what's been happening?"

It took until lunch time for everyone to have their say, and no, Cybertron science had never developed a gravity generator because they'd never needed one, but... Vault had paused and inclined his helm... it would be a very interesting project and something that would greatly benefit their human allies. He'd speak to Wheeljack about it... Poppy nodded.

"I'd like to be there. I want to ask the Prime about the three 'Cons."

"Of course. I'll let you know what we arrange." He glanced over his shoulder as Laura appeared carrying a gong, which she sounded and announced, "Dinner is served."

Poppy rose to her feet, being careful to get her balance before trying to walk.

"Later. For now, let's see what Steamy has dreamed up."

xxx

Dinner was - huge. And delicious. And consisted of five courses, including a lobster, crab, prawn and avocado concoction that Poppy decided she wanted on the main menu - just every now and then - and the most succulent duck in sweet goji-berry and cranberry glaze anyone had ever tasted. The meal took an hour and half and at the end Poppy leaned back in her seat and _huffed_ quietly with satisfaction.

"That was _very _good. Many thanks to all our wonderful kitchen geniuses!"

It would have been perfect if Phil and Graham had been there... Cable lightly stroked her arm.

"We'll see them tomorrow, Poppy, and maybe find out the long term prognosis."

She nodded sadly. "I just hope it's good news."

They moved back to the lounge and one by one everyone returned to their duties, leaving Poppy, Cable and 'Spin sitting together. 'Spin eyed her for a moment, then seemed to come to some sort of a decision.

"Poppy, I think you may have to thpeak to Prowl."

She frowned. "How come?"

"Well, perhapth it'th not Prowl tho much, ath that human. The female one, camped outthide. The one who callth herthelf ProwlthMithuth."

"She's still there?"

"Yeth, and being a bit of a nuithanthe. The guardth caught her inthide the gateth latht week. No-one quite knowth what to do with her, tho at the moment they're jutht ignoring her. But I think the thituation needth thome attention."

Poppy nodded and checked her watch. "I agree. And it's three pm and perhaps now would be a good time to go and see what we can do. Let 'Beat and Stronghold I'd like their help? I'll see them outside once I've grabbed a jacket..."

xxx

© JAT 21.01.13


	2. Safe

**Part 2 - Safe**

The first thing Poppy heard was coughing - a horrible, wheezy coughing. She started towards the private ward: the consultant gently caught her arm and stopped her.

"I must ask you to wear this." He handed her a surgical mask identical to the one he wore. "The Wing Commander has developed bronchitis, and the lieutenant has pneumonia. It's vital no other respiratory pathogens are introduced."

Poppy nodded and hurriedly put on the mask, then rubbed antibacterial gel thoroughly over her hands and wrists. The consultant nodded approvingly and opened the door for her: she took a deep breath and entered.

Phil and Graham were both in their beds, attached to monitors and both looked ill. She tried to smile, hoping it showed in her eyes.

"Hello you two."

Graham smiled tiredly at her and raised a hand in greeting. Phil tried, but started coughing again, spasms wracking his body.

The consultant checked the monitors and nodded to himself, then glanced at Poppy.

"Ten minutes, Ms Moss. And please, no physical contact."

"Thank you." She pulled up a chair between the beds and seated herself as the consultant left, and eyed them both.

"I suppose asking how you feel is a silly question..."

Phil tried to speak, but only started coughing again. Poppy patted his bed - the closest she dared come to patting the hand lying on the sheet.

"Don't, Phil. Don't try to speak." She glanced at Graham. "I'm so glad to see you both. I was - we all were - so worried."

Graham nodded, and wheezed, "We were a bit worried ourselves."

"The doctors say you'll be able to leave in a week. I've organised it that you'll come back to the consulate. We can look after you there."

"Great." Graham managed a brief chuckle. "The food'll be better too."

"How do you feel?"

"Better than we did. We won't know the full effects until after we've shifted this," Graham touched his chest "and they can run tests. With luck, our inhalation of the radon was minimal."

Poppy swallowed. That was the worry now - the possibility of lung cancer from radon poisoning. Their careers could also be at risk: if their lungs had been weakened, they'd probably have to retire from active duty...

They would both hate that.

"I'll see if I can get any more out of the doctor. Do you want me to bring in anything next time I visit? Grapes? Books? Ouija board?"

They both stared at her, and she chuckled weakly.

"Sorry. Was supposed to be a joke."

Graham grinned. "We're not dead yet."

"What... Oh." She felt her face redden. "Oh hell, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

Graham waved his hand dismissively.

"Forget it. We're used to trenches humour." He thought for a moment. "Actually, if the hospital allow it, some fresh fruit would be wonderful. The food's not all that bad but it's not exactly exciting."

"I'll check and bring some in tomorrow."

"Thanks." He stifled a cough. "You look well."

She grinned. "It was fun. Well, it would have been if you two hadn't been... you know. The lunar base is great, and the consulate very comfortable. For the moon, I mean." She smiled at Phil. "I want you to come next time. You'd enjoy it, I think."

He managed a smile and a tiny nod, and she felt her stomach clench. It was so _awful_ seeing him like this. Phil was strong, alert, funny and understanding. He shouldn't be here, suffering like this...

She caught herself before her eyes could tear up, and made herself smile instead.

"OK, so, a fruit basket. Books? Magazines?"

"Can you get hold of the latest copy of National Geographic? We both like it."

She hadn't known that. She nodded. "Sure! Anything else?"

"Not right now." He glanced at the door as the consultant walked in. "Looks like they're kicking you out."

Had it really been ten minutes? Although she wasn't too upset: it was difficult thinking of things to say. She nodded to them both.

"I'll let everyone know how you are and see you again tomorrow. With fruit."

"Thanks Poppy. Lovely to see you."

Phil managed a nod and thumbs up. Poppy blew them both a kiss then headed off to check up the hospital's rules about incoming external fruit...

xxx

::What the _frag_ are we going to do with them::

Ratchet was pacing, servos clasped behind his back. The Prime was seated at his desk: Ironhide's image was on the screen on the wall, joining in the meeting from his post in the States. Through the window they could just see the basic, force-screened hanger where Barricade, Soundwave and Knock Out were currently housed, their comms systems jammed, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker - and half the human garrison, appropriately armed - on guard outside. So far they'd caused no problems, but Prime was taking no chances.

::At the moment, old friend, I am uncertain::

::They've terminate Autobots::

Optimus frowned. ::And we have killed Decepticons::

::That's different:: Ratchet paused in his pacing and inclined his head. ::Well, maybe not. But all the same...::

The Prime raised a servo. ::Let us consider the alternatives::

::One, we kill them:: Ironhide's voice was slightly less resolute than before his rebirth. The Prime regarded him solemnly.

::You would do that? Now that the war is effectively over?::

::... no, I don't believe I would::

::I am glad to hear it. There has been enough destruction. And Knock Out and Soundwave, at least, have excellent skills to offer:: He smiled at Ratchet. ::It would be good to have another medic on our team::

That much was certainly true... His engine growled threateningly.

::We can't trust them::

::I believe they will listen to reason::

::Not Barricade::

And it was true that of all the three, Barricade would be the most difficult to deal with. His hatred for the Autobots was, in Ratchet's estimation, irrevocable and merciless.

::Barricade may need special measures. But he is, nonetheless, an excellent warrior::

::Yes, if you don't mind being murdered in your berth! Honestly, Optimus, he's a lost cause::

::There are too few of us, Ratchet. So many dead, terminated. So many. I do not wish to lose even one more, unless we have no other option::

::I could beat some sense into him::

Optimus smiled at Ironhide's image.

::I'm sure you could, and it may come to that. We'll try the more peaceable alternative first::

Ratchet halted and lowered his helm. ::You're going to invite them to join us::

::Yes. But:: he said, raising a servo to quieten the medic's objections, ::we will not go into this blind. I want you and Wheeljack to devise something that will immobilise them completely should they stray further than a set distance from... well, we'll decide on that later. It could be you or me, or the base, or the island. I need a feasibility report first::

::You just want them disabled, not killed::

Optimus fixed the medic with a stern optic, and Ratchet _huffed _a sigh.

::Yes sir::

::But I will speak with them first::

xxx

Knock Out stretched out on the spacious, comfortable berth and sipped his energon. It was good. It was _very_ good. Possibly the best he'd had since before he'd left Cybertron.

He could get used to this.

Though he knew Soundwave was fretting. Without access to his comms, or any way to gain access to the outside world, the communications expert was lost. It was almost pitiful.

Barricade, on the other hand, was in stasis cuffs for attacking Jolt when he had brought in their rations two days ago. Personally Knock Out didn't blame the 'Bots: he'd been more worried that their rations would be cut. Fortunately they hadn't been, but Barricade was squirming in a corner, growling constantly and trying to remove the cuffs.

He wouldn't succeed, of course, and even if he did, Knock Out didn't fancy his chances against those two frontliners. The twins were definitely to be feared...

The Prime entered without introduction or fanfare, and Knock Out instinctively rose, standing to a loose sort of attention as the big figure paced sombrely across the hanger. He was joined a moment later by Soundwave. Everyone ignored the stream of expletives coming from the corner.

"You know your current situation."

Knock Out sighed. "It's been made very clear to us. Sir."

"The factions cannot exist any more. The war started over two things - the caste system and the shortage of energon. Over the aeons it became more about personalities and power. Now we are reduced to a handful of beings. Megatron is gone. So are most of his forces. Any personality clashes can and will be resolved diplomatically. There are no more castes. And we have more energon than we know what to do with, and will have until the sun grows cold. _There is no need for war_."

Knock Out was silent for a moment.

"But you remain the Prime."

"Because we still need a leader. We still need someone to negotiate with the humans. And because the Matrix chose me."

"And if another wanted that role?"

"Then it would be open for discussion."

"But all your tame bots would outvote anyone else who wanted the job. So how can you say there are no more castes? You're a caste of one. Where would we be, if we joined you? Right at the bottom with the labourers?"

Optimus frowned. "Why would you think that? You are a medic - at the moment we only have Ratchet. It's a highly skilled occupation: I assume you would wish to keep it? If not, we will find another for you. Soundwave's communication and surveillance skills are always welcome. There would even be a place for Barricade, if he can adjust his attitude."

"Or have it adjusted for him." Knock Out reached back for his energon and took a sip. Much to his surprise Optimus nodded.

"If it came to that, yes."

"I thought you were against that sort of thing."

"To quote Sentinel, the needs of the many..."

"Glad to see you're not _quite_ as weak-sparked as I've been led to believe."

"We would not be here to have this conversation if that had been true. You also have been fed... half-truths."

"Hm. And if we say no?"

"Then, regretfully, we would have to ensure you cannot cause any harm - to us, to the future we are building, or to the humans."

"You'd terminate us."

"We would prefer not to."

"But you would if you had to."

"With regret. But I'm interested to know why you are asking. Given that the cause for which you fought no longer exists, why _not_ try co-operating instead? It's logical. No more running and hiding, scrimping and starving. It will be a while before you're trusted, but that will come."

"Mm."

"You wish to consider the idea?"

"I... think Soundwave and I need to discuss it." He glanced at Barricade, snarling incoherently in the corner. "I can't guarantee he will agree with anything we decide, but it may be time to cut him loose in any case. He's been getting more and more... irrational since we left America."

"It may be possible for Ratchet to examine him. Later."

Knock Out was silent for a moment, then regarded the Prime somewhat sourly.

"I assume that if we say yes, there'll be some kind of restrictions? Some way to make sure we stay in line? If I were you I'd make sure of it. Some little device attached to, say, the spark chamber or processor, to render us offline if we try anything."

"I am afraid so."

The medic vented a sigh and nodded. "Understood. Well, _I_ could live with that, but I don't know about Soundwave. He needs to fly."

"Starstream can fly with him."

Knock Out stared. "Starstream? Who's that?"

"The resurrected Starscream."

All three 'Cons stared.

"Wh... what...?"

Optimus shrugged.

"His spark survived. Ratchet built him a new frame. He is now with us."

"He remembers his old life?"

"Only isolated parts. His processor was very badly damaged. He is recovering well, however. His sparklings are helping with that."

"His..." It was unusual for Knock Out to be speechless. Optimus smiled.

"Would you like to talk to him?"

"... Yes. I think we need to."

"Then I will see if he is willing. If so, we will organise it."

xxx

::You offered them _what_?::

Optimus sighed. ::Sideswipe and Sunstreaker will be with him. If it would ease your concern I will be there also. Starstream has already said yes. He thinks it will help persuade them::

Ratchet's engine growled. ::Well _I_ think it's a very bad idea::

::Your opinion is noted. In the meantime, Knock Out has implied that Barricade may have some sort of glitch which is making him so irrational. I believe you should examine him::

::My joy is never ending...::

Optimus smiled. ::We would hate for you to become bored::

Ratchet quirked a brow ridge and crossed his arms across his frame.

::Not a hope...::

::Very well. Let's tell our visitors they may see Starstream tomorrow::

::And I'll get medbay ready for a thorough processor scan. If a virus, injury or glitch _is_ all that's wrong with Barricade, then we may still be able to... save him::

And that would be a good thing, as far as the Prime was concerned. There had been enough killing to last 'til the universe ended. It was past time to stop.

xxx

© JAT 27.01.13


	3. Misunderstandings

**Part 3 - Misunderstandings**

"Sanders has emailed over his report."

Poppy glanced up from her desk and smiled at Beverley.

"That was quick! What does he have to say?"

Ramp transferred the file onto Poppy's extension of himself - as the Consulate's business had increased he'd had to upgrade and extend himself to cope - and opened it on the screen. It was short and concise, and Poppy nodded as she read.

"So that's all OK..."

xxx

Rowan 'ProwlsMissus' Skinner had proved quite amiable when confronted, excited rather than intimidated by 'Beat and Stronghold. She'd invited Poppy into her tent (Poppy had declined gracefully) and been quite open about her reasons for being there. Quite simply, she was enthralled by the very idea of the transformers, had believed in aliens from childhood, and was completely enchanted by Prowl.

"He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen..." Poppy watched, disbelievingly, as the young woman clasped her hands under her chin, eyes big and dreamy. Did people actually act so clichéd these days? Apparently so.

A little questioning and the consul had learned that Rowan was an art school graduate, currently unemployed, originally from Plymouth via London: she left it to the two cars to record the conversation and take images of Rowan for later investigation.

"What do you want to do?"

Rowan eyed the consul uncertainly.

"I... don't really know. I mean, I'm not a bad illustrator, but getting a job is difficult these days. And I'm happy here, being close to them." She gestured to Stronghold. "And I get to see Prowl every now and again."

"You understand you really can't stay here. Not permanently."

The young woman lowered her gaze sadly. "I know. And I know what I'm doing is just... daft. But right now I have nothing else to do."

"Hm. What else can you do?"

Rowan stared at her, puzzled, for a moment, then shrugged. "The usual. I did part time work in an office for a few months last summer, just basic secretarial stuff. I can't cook to save my life. Not much good with plants... Really, I just draw and design."

"I see." Poppy was silent for a moment. "You have a phone?"

"Yes."

"Let me have your number." As Rowan wrote it down, Poppy frowned. "How do you mange for a power supply? For your phone? And how do you use the internet from a tent?"

Rowan blushed. "My aunt lives in Winchester. She lets me use hers."

"And how do you get there?"

Rowan gestured behind the tent, where Poppy could just see a bicycle tyre poking out. "I bike it."

Not afraid of exercise then. That was good.

"And your aunt's address?"

Rowan bit her lower lip.

"She won't get into trouble, will she?"

Poppy smiled reassuringly. "Of course not. It's just useful to have a contact address."

"Oh. Oh, right." Rowan duly handed over the information, and Poppy nodded.

"Thank you." As she placed the slip of paper in her wallet Rowan eyed her, part apprehensively, part hopefully.

"So... uh... do you want me to leave, then?"

Poppy regarded her appraisingly, then grinned. No harm in indulging the young woman's fantasy a little.

"We'll be in touch."

xxx

That had been four days ago. Ramp and Eric Sanders had researched the woman, and everything had come up clean. Poppy chuckled to herself and turned to her PA.

"Could you use a hand in the office?"

Beverley shoved a hand through her hair and huffed. "Do you know a PA who _couldn't_?

"She's untrained..."

Beverly shrugged. "So were you, if the tales are true. We all had to start somewhere."

Poppy grinned and turned to Ramp. "Is Prowl available?"

"Your timing is excellent - he's just out of recharge and taking his energon."

"Ask him to meet me in the foyer when he's finished?"

"Already done."

xxx

Poppy debated just sending Prowl to ring Rowan in - then decided it would be more sensible if she went along as well. To save everyone embarrassment, if nothing else.

Rowan stared as Poppy climbed out of the Nemesis, mouth agape and eyes huge as he transformed.

"Ooooh..."

Poppy tapped her on the shoulder. Rowan reluctantly dragged her attention back to the Consul - in fact, to Poppy's surprise and approval, she turned her back on him and fixed her attention on the human.

"Rowan Skinner, I am here to offer you a post at the Consulate, as secretarial assistant to the consul PA. This will require you to sign and adhere to the Official Secrets Act, along with the official Consulate regulations. Are you interested?"

Was she interested?! Was she hell!

Poppy watched from Prowl's driver's seat as Rowan slid slowly and tentatively into the passenger seat, beaming smile threatening to split her face in two.

"You won't regret this, Ms Moss, Prowl sir..." Trembling hands cautiously stroked the black leather of the tactician's interior. "I really appreciate it."

Poppy nodded as Prowl drove off, silently and smoothly. "We'll send someone to collect your things as soon as we get back. We have a room ready for you. I'll introduce you to my PA, and she will explain your duties. We try to all eat together in the evening; you'll meet everyone else - human - there. Tomorrow I'll formally introduce you to our alien guests. There are more of them than just the vehicles you've seen."

Rowan squeezed her hands together, almost unable to contain her excitement.

"Thank you..."

xxx

Rowan had spent the first twenty four hours at the Consulate almost speechless. Steamy had enchanted her, 'Spin, Vault and Sinewave unnerved her, Ramp she found scary - especially when she realised she'd be working with him _all the time_ (Beverley and Ramp himself assured her he was fine and didn't bite, or electrocute, or anything like that), and as for the vehicles...

Oddly, she was more at home with them than any of the other transformers. Prowl remained her first love, but she found Blue charming, and quickly developed a cautious friendship with 'Beat and Stronghold as well. After a couple of days she felt like a member of the family.

Poppy was pleased, but she had other matters to concern her. Phil and Graham were coming home tomorrow.

The prognosis was good, she'd been told, but they wouldn't know for certain until after the bronchitis and pneumonia had completely cleared up. In the meantime, taking it easy, staying warm, good food and fresh air when it wasn't too cold, avoiding stressful situations or anyone who was ill - all the basics for a return to full health. Neither of them was to exert themselves in any way until the consultants said they were cleared for work.

That, Poppy knew, might pose a problem. But she was determined, and had got in a variety of games for them to indulge themselves in while they were waiting. Chess, Monopoly, The Awful Green Things from Outer Space - all board games as she wasn't sure if the more violent video games recommended for their demographic might be too stressful for them in their state of health. Heh, if she was wrong it wouldn't be difficult to get some in...

Steamy had already researched what would be most suitable for the invalids and made sure he had plenty of ingredients. Though Poppy was a little worried about the amount of organic garlic he'd ordered. He'd waved away her uncertainties.

"Garlic is everso good for humans. It has antibacterial, antimicrobial and antiseptic qualities, is loaded with all those strange vitamins and minerals you need, and is supposed to be excellent for ailments of the chest."

Poppy nodded. "I know all that, Steamy, and I'm sure it'll do them a whole lot of good. But garlic is very strong smelling..."

Steamy waved away her worries.

"I have new filters installed - we did it while you were on the moon."

"But..."

"Honestly Poppy, it will be fine."

Unconvinced, Poppy decided to let it go for now. Steamy did usually know what he was doing...

xxx

They'll be here in ten, Poppy."

"Thanks, Ramp." Poppy grinned at Beverly and the pair left the office, making their way down to the foyer. There was a thin drizzle falling from the grey sky, and a chill wind made it feel colder than it really was: they'd need to get Phil and Matthew indoors as soon as possible.

At the allotted time Stronghold pulled up as close to the house as he could, and Poppy stepped forward with a large golfing umbrella. Phil - looking thin, pale and tired - slid out of the passenger seat and smiled at her, rolling his eyes at the brolly. His voice was still a little hoarse

"We're not complete invalids, you know."

She chuckled and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "All part of the service. Welcome back."

Graham - who didn't look much better - mock-scowled and tapped his own cheek. "Hey, don't I get one?"

A moment later he was staring, open mouthed, at Beverly, who smirked at him. "You said you wanted one."

He grinned broadly. "I did, didn't I? Thanks!"

Laughing, Poppy held the umbrella over them both and shooed them into the house.

xxx

Phil sighed happily as he stretched out on the sofa and wriggled his toes. Both men had gone straight to their rooms, changed into casual clothes, and come back to the lounge for coffee and an update on the news. Not that there was much: Poppy had been keeping them appraised of everything once she'd been allowed to see them.

"This is wonderful. You have no idea how good it is to get back to normal."

Poppy perched on the chair opposite. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, we're fine. Laura's bringing coffee in a minute."

And indeed, Laura appeared from the kitchen, a tray in her hands and a slightly worried expression on her face. She glanced apprehensively at Poppy before lowering the tray for Phil and Graham to take their mugs and a handful of Steamy's home made biscuits. Poppy frowned. Had Laura left the kitchen door open? She was sure she could smell garlic...

Phil took a slurp of his coffee and immediately spat it back out. "**_GAH!_** That's **disgusting**!"

Graham took a sip of his own and did the same. Poppy leaned forward anxiously.

"What's wrong?"

"Garlic. It tastes of _garlic_." Phil grabbed for a biscuit in the hope it might ease the taste - but spat that out as well.

"It all tastes of garlic..."

Poppy slid a hand over her face.

"I'm sorry. It's Steamy. He found out garlic is good for you and has obviously gone too far. I'll go and speak to him. Laura, get the coffee from the office and make fresh, please. In fresh mugs."

She marched determinedly to the kitchen, to find Steamy humming happily to himself while grating raw garlic into the tea caddy containing the Earl Grey.

"Steamy,** stop**. Right now. **That's an order**!"

"But Poppy..." The little transformer carried on grating until Poppy snatched the grater and garlic bulb from his servo.

"I told you garlic smelt strong. You've just made Phil and Graham spit out their coffee. This has _got to stop_. If it doesn't, they'll be asking to go back to hospital for some decent food!"

"But..."

"But nothing, Steamy. I'm serious. Garlic is used in main meals, not in just anything and everything. You can use it in one meal a day. If it doesn't automatically go into a dish, then you can make garlic mushrooms with garlic mayonnaise for them for lunch or supper. But that's all. Otherwise you're going to make them ill. Are we clear?"

She could swear Steamy was sulking.

"Oh, all right..."

She sighed. "And you'd better tell the others what else you've put it in, so we don't get any unpleasant surprises."

A definite pout. "OK."

Poppy returned to the lounge and the smell of proper coffee, rubbing at her forehead. She had a headache coming. But at least she'd stopped the shenanigans before it became a _real_ problem...

xxx

Once again James Zender faced Oliver Black over a bone-china cup of fragrant Earl Grey and smiled slowly. On the screen behind them were images of Soundwave, Knock Out and Barricade.

"So we're decided then."

Black nodded. "It seems by far the best plan. I just don't know how we're going to implement it."

"Leave that with me. One way or another we _will_ get them back."

xxx

© JAT 3.2.13


	4. Operations

**AN: **FFNet is playing up - I posted this once and although it seemed to be OK I got an error message when trying to get to it from the alert. I've deleted and reuploaded - fingers crossed this works...

xxx

**Part 4 - Operations**

It had taken four days for Starstream to feel relaxed enough to visit the 'Cons, and by that time Ratchet had fitted the inhibitors in both Soundwave and Knock Out - and Soundwave had been allowed access to the comms system. Incoming only - they weren't ready to trust him with transmissions yet - but it was enough to ease his claustrophobia for the moment.

Barricade was another matter. His mania and paranoia was definitely getting worse, and Ratchet was sure there had to be some underlying physical reason for it. He researched as much as he could, and had Wheeljack design and make a couple of new diagnostic tools before clearing his schedule for the day and reinforcing the bonds he used to secure difficult patients. The day that Starstream was to visit their Deceptions Ratchet had had Optimus, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe wrestle Barricade to the medbay and hold him down long enough for the medic to force him into stasis and strap him down securely.

::You going to be able to cure the fragger?" Sunstreaker stared down at the old enemy curiously. ::I mean, if you can we could use a fighter like him::

::Won't know until I've had a chance to examine him - which will be better accomplished with less people cluttering up my medbay:: The medic glared at the twins. ::Don't you have something more important to do?::

::Yeah, I guess. Making sure Starstream and Knock Out don't tear each other to shards::

Ratchet glowered at them. ::So why are you still here?::

xxx

"So you're Starscream. I mean Starstream. You certainly don't look like your old self."

The jet gestured to Soundwave. "I am not the only one. I am content in this frame."

"Touché." The Aston Martin rested a clawed hand on one tilted hip and ran his gaze up and down the jet's slender frame. "It suits you."

There was a long, awkward silence. Glad of the frontliners' solid presence behind him, Starstream fought not to tremble: the pair's scrutiny was vaguely alarming, especially with Soundwave's lack of face. Eventually Knock Out broke the silence.

"So what's it like, being an Autobot?"

"I am not. We have no factions here."

"That's what the big boss said. I find it hard to believe."

"But it is true." He raised his servos, palms upwards. "We are all equal. We have the opportunity to be what we want to be. Well, within the limits of what is available, of course."

"Do you remember what you used to be like?"

Starstream shuddered. "I recall some. Not all. I remember fighting and killing. Death and destruction. I remember being used."

Knock Out nodded slowly. Megatron's mistreatment of his 'second in command' was legendary.

"That no longer happens. Here, I am respected. My talents are appreciated - I work with Wheeljack and Ratchet in their laboratories, and fly with Skyfire. I have a good working relationship with the humans. And..." He hesitated, but they already knew about the hatchling. "I have sparklings. Ratchet is the co-creator of one of them - though from a long time ago."

Knock Out stared, speechless. Ordinarily he would have accused the jet of treason - but this situation was completely novel. He had enough of an instinct of self-preservation to make him cautious.

"It's possible? The production of offspring?"

Starstream looked back, to where Wavefront was hovering at the doorway, and gestured him forwards. "This is Wavefront."

"He's yours? Who was the co-creator? Not an Autobot, surely?"

"No. Given the circumstances, I... we... have to assume either Megaton or the Fallen..." He quivered and shook his helm minutely, and Knock Out flinched in sympathy. "Nova is Ratchet's co-creation. Little grounder who's already decided he wants to be a medic."

Knock Out nodded slowly, doing his best to force his processor out of its engrained routes and into a new format, one where Autobots and Decepticons were not enemies but simply Cybertronians. With a future, despite the AllSpark being no longer in existence.

It was going to take some time. In the meantime, keeping quiet and learning all he could would serve him best.

"And everyone lives in peace? Difficult to imagine."

"Then don't. Join with us. Find out what it feels like to recharge safely, without fear of onlining with a blade or blaster at your spark, and to know that if you should wake with the memories of the past clawing at you, that there is always someone there to soothe you. To share with others of our kind - ideas, insights, worries, joys - without fear of mocking or recriminations or future blackmail. To never go hungry again."

"You've gone soft."

"Maybe. I prefer to call it wise, rather than soft. And it makes us stronger than ever before." He smiled. "It's a good existence."

And put like that, they could hardly disagree. The suspicions of millions of years wouldn't be set aside so easily though.

"And if we transgress?"

"Then you get a second chance - but with restrictions until you have proven yourself trustworthy. A third, however, is not an option. Optimus would - regretfully - order your permanent stasis."

"Stasis? Not termination?"

"The Prime prefers not to take irreversible action unless forced to it."

"Hm."

"Are you ready to join us?"

"We don't exactly have much choice." He raised a servo as Starscream frowned. "That's a yes, not a no. Be patient with us. It's asking a lot."

The jet inclined his helm and gave a small smile. "It is. But it's worth it. The Prime will come and discuss your appointments with you shortly."

xxx

Wheeljack peered over Ratchet's shoulder into the open mass of cabling, microchips, and clusters of submicroscopic processor cores that was Barricade's brain.

::Found the problem?::

::Yes. Whether I can fix it is another matter::

::What is it?::

Ratchet initiated a tiny laser from a foredigit and used it as a pointer. Wheeljack peered in, adjusting his optics to better view the small area deep within the Ford's processor. Something there was sparking intermittently, minute flashes of arcing purple light.

::There's an erroneous linkage here - well, a partial one. It looks like at some point the neural cabling split and re-bonded, making a link between his behavioural modules and his emotion control core::

::And there shouldn't be one?::

::Not there, no. It should be at a much higher level::

::So what? You cut it and weld the correct ends together?::

::Not that easy. The polymaxons have grown together and the lines are now so intertwined and co-dependent that I could easily fry something vital and irreparable. But if I _don't_ act it will just get worse until his processor simply... tears itself apart::

::And that's why he's so violent and irrational?::

::Part of that is natural. He was designed as a warrior. But this inability to listen to anyone who tries to tell him anything, or reason with him, I believe that's been caused by this... break::

::So what you going to do?::

::I'm going to keep him in medical stasis until I can come up with a repair option. And since Knock Out is now nominally one of us and self-proclaimed better at breaking than mending, I'll ask for his input::

::Have fun with that!:: Wheeljack 'snickered', then left speedily as Ratchet glowered at him. Hesitating for only a klik the medic commed Knock Out.

xxx

Knock Out had only just finished speaking with the Prime - and internalising the groups rules and guidelines - when the ping arrived from Ratchet. He glanced up at Optimus, optics wide.

"I'm being summoned to work already? No probationary period?"

"This **_is_** your probationary period. Ratchet will oversee."

"Very well. Sir." The Aston Martin headed for the exit, looking back as Optimus made a sound similar to a human cough for attention.

"Do not waste this opportunity."

Knock Out turned to full face him and saluted, servo to spark chamber.

"I'll do my best..."

xxx

Ratchet spared him barely a glance, growled, "What kept you?" and without giving him a chance to reply launched into a highly technical description of the problem. Obviously a test. Knock Out listened carefully and at the end nodded his understanding.

"Well, it's not something I have much experience of - despite what you might think, we didn't usually mess around with the processors of our soldiers - and I'm no specialist, but I suggest we consider a partial resection and microweld coupled with a cyberglial sheath to keep the polymaxons apart."

"That won't fully repair the damage."

"No, but it won't kill him either, and it should at least alleviate the symptoms. Once the first cyberneural pathways have realigned, it should be possible to perform the procedure again, and possibly a third time, until everything is functioning correctly."

Ratchet nodded slowly.

"That would work."

"It didn't occur to you?"

"It did, but it's not something I have ever performed, and I'm used to completing surgeries at any one time rather than spacing them out."

Knock Out nodded understandingly. "Yes - in a war it's usually the only way. But as everyone keeps pointing out, the war is over. We have the leisure now."

"True. Very well. You will assist me. You've done this before?"

"Just once, a long time ago."

"And the patient?"

"Survived. Went on to fight in many many more battles."

"Good. Make a list of what we need. If there's anything we don't already have to servo we'll have to make it, but between Wheeljack, Jolt and myself that shouldn't be a problem. We'll start tomorrow."

Knock Out regarded him, bemused. "Just like that?"

"Why? Do you think you can't do it?"

"Oh, no, I'm sure I can. But..."

Ratchet's optics bored into him. "Did you think we were venting hot air when we told you how things work here?"

Knock Out smiled. "I can see that you weren't. Very well, sir. I'll start on that list."

"Good. And it's Ratchet. The only one who gets called 'sir' around here is Prime."

xxx

Optimus had hovered, well out of the way, as Ratchet and Knock out worked over Barricade. It took a while, a couple of earth hours, with both medics concentrating tightly, strange and wonderful minute tools appearing and disappearing from their digit-tips. The Prime couldn't see what they were doing - they were far too deep inside the Ford's helm and working with almost microscopically small components, and he couldn't make sense of the images on the screen of the monitor that was scanning and recording every tiny move the pair made - but both seemed to be reasonably happy with the way things were going. Finally Ratchet pulled himself upright with a crunch of grinding gears and nodded at his colleague.

"You did well. Meticulous work, performed with precision."

Knock Out stared, then smirked.

"Thank you, doctor. It was an honour to work with you."

Ratchet waved the compliment away dismissively, but his field peaked sharply for a moment with pleasure and appreciation. Most of his fellows had no idea of the complexity of some of the miracles he pulled off: it was nice to be with someone who understood them.

"I want him to stay in stasis for a whole earth rotation to let the repair nanites get to work, then we'll bring him back online, at... ten percent of normal, I think, until we see the results. Your thoughts?"

Knock Out nodded his agreement. "That would be best, yes."

"Good. We'll leave it there for now." Ratchet glanced at the Prime. "I'd like him guarded, just in case. Can one of the twins stay with him?"

Optimus inclined his helm. "I'll take care of it."

"Thank you. In the meantime..." he turned back to the Aston Martin "I'd like you to try designing a series of tests for him along with a schedule of gradual increments in operational ability. We need to know if the procedure is working, but we also need to take this slow."

Knock Out grinned and gave him a casual salute. "Will do, doctor."

xxx

Optimus accompanied him on his walk to the rec room. ::I believe you have what the humans call a 'fan'::

Ratchet was silent for a klik while he looked up the reference, then snorted.

::We'll see. It was a good start though::

::And Barricade?::

::We won't know for a while, but I am hopefully. The surgery went very well::

::That's good news. I would be very happy to see Barricade working with us::

::Better than having him fight against us. So, what's next on the agenda?::

::Soundwave will be assuming his agreed post on the comms team, under Chatter and Ramps surveillance, this afternoon. Then I have the weekly briefing conference with the general scheduled for two hours' time. I am hoping he doesn't have any bad news for us...::

xxx

© JAT 09.02.13

xxx


	5. Operations 2

**AN: **I am so sorry this is so late. Real life has been real chaos this last couple of months. Will try to do better. Many thanks to everyone who is still sticking with the story - there;s a way to go yet!

**Part 5 - Operations 2**

"Well _I_ think a run down to the sea would be good for you. Healthy air, lots of ozone - isn't that good for humans?"

Phil grinned up at Bluestreak. The Porsche Spyder had become extremely solicitous since his human been allowed back to the Consulate, checking on him every hour at least and staying with him as much as was possible. It should have been stifling, but Blue was so circumspect about it that Phil actually rather enjoyed the attention.

"OK then. Let me get my jacket and a flask of coffee."

"Already done, Mr Phil." Steamy waved the thermos from his position at the kitchen door.

_Of course it is..._ Phil chuckled quietly. There were advantages to living with aliens with internal communications. He rose to his feet, took the thermos - and a small box of Steamy's home made biscuits (_without_ garlic: fortunately the little transformer had obeyed Poppy's orders) - and with Blue following headed for the door, snagging his parka from the stand in the hall.

It was cold outside, and Phil was happy to climb into the transformed Blue's interior. The heat gently enveloped him, warming him thoroughly as he relaxed into the driver's seat.

"Would you like music?"

Phil nodded. "The... let's see... blue highways playlist."

As Springsteen's _Born to Run_ began to play, the car shifted smoothly into gear and headed for Eastbourne and the windswept beauty of Beachy Head.

xxxxx

Jacinta grinned from the screen. Her haired was pulled back severely and fastened into place: it made her look quite different but kept it under control in the moon's lighter gravity. Poppy smiled and gave her a small wave.

"How is everything?"

"It's great!" The Australian was brimming over with enthusiasm. "I love it here! Val's been fitted out with air tanks and has made himself airtight, and we've gone out driving! It's fantastic!"

Poppy laughed. "I didn't think of that! I'll have to speak to 'Beat about doing it next time we're up there."

"You must - it's wonderful..." Jacinta settled back in her seat and muted her grin a little, her eyes tracking the faces of the other Consuls on their multiple screens. "Sorry. Ready now."

There was a chorus of chuckles, half amused, half envious, from the others, and Poppy called the meeting to order. From the new and so-far successful hydroponics project in the Australian outback, through the use of new transformer technology to ease the problem of over-fishing in the North Sea, to the ever-present simmering anti-alien sentiment in the Middle East, they had a lot to discuss.

xxxxx

Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were in Ratchet's Lair, armed and alert but out of the medics' way as Ratchet released Barricade from stasis. The 'Con had been through two more surgeries since the procedure had first been mooted, and the initial results had looked promising. This time Ratchet had decided to bring Barricade online at seventy-five percent capacity - hence the twins' presence.

Knock Out hovered by the older medic's shoulder, watching the monitor's data channels intently. Ratchet's hardline was plugged into the 'Con, controlling the process precisely.

"Cognitive functions first. We'll see what mood he's in before we give him back any motion."

Knock Out nodded, watching as the indicators climbed slowly but steadily and the resting thrum of Barricade's internal system slowly increased. Blank optics flickered, then the light steadied and brightened, staring up at Ratchet.

"Where am I?"

Not _frag off you fragging fragger_. That was a good sign.

"Med bay. How do you feel?"

"Like Pit." The 'Con wriggled against the restraints. "Gonna let me up?"

"In a while. Maybe." Ratchet was focussed on reading the multiple scans he was running, and answered distractedly. Knock Out grinned at his old comrade.

"He's always like that. When he's sure you aren't going to attack us he'll release you."

Barricade growled. "Not much I _can_ do with this inhibitor inside me."

Ratchet paused and gazed down at him. "You know it's there?"

"Yeah. Can feel it. Clever doc - self-destruct unless removed by you."

"We have to be sure."

"Yeah, I know. I'd do the same." He smirked. "But I'm not completely stupid. Rather serve on the winning side than be terminated."

Ratchet stared at him.

"That's rather sudden."

"I guess." He shrugged as best he could. "Can see clearer now. Whatever you did - it's changed me. Feel like I got some control now."

"Good..." Ratchet glanced at Knock Out. "Any contraindications?"

"Nothing here, Ratchet."

"Very good." The medic gestured the twins closer then looked back at Barricade. "I'm pleased with the improvement. I'm going to let you up in a moment. Understand that your weapons' systems will stay offline until I'm completely satisfied, and you'll be on probation for a while. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker will be your...mentors while you're here."

The 'Con turned his helm and stared at the grinning twins.

"Don't worry. We'll go easy on you."

Barricade's gaze swivelled back to the medic, who vented a sigh and glowered at the frontliners.

"Behave!" He patted Barricade's shoulder. "You have any problems with them you tell me or Prime."

The 'Con nodded hesitantly, and Ratchet unfastened the restraints. Warily, optics never leaving the twins who were fondling their weapons with obscene glee, Barricade slowly sat up, servos open and resting on his thighstruts. Knock Out nodded as the indicators peaked then settled at a slightly less than optimal but acceptable level.

"Looking good, sir."

"Excellent." Ratchet unjacked from the medical port and straightened up. "I'll leave him to you to run those tests: let me have your report later. And it's Ratchet, not sir."

"Sorry, Ratchet."

They watched the medic leave, then Barricade turned to Knock Out.

"Tests?"

"To check how well the operations have succeeded." He smirked. "Don't worry, they're nothing painful."

The Ford growled. "If they involve thinking they will be!"

Sideswipe chuckled. "If you want pain, just call."

Knock Out rested a servo on one hip and glared at the frontliners.

"Ratchet told you to behave."

"And since when do we do what Ratchet tells us?"

"Or Optimus?"

A klik's silence. "Yeah, OK, _him _we'll listen to."

Knock Out waved his servo dismissively and turned back to Barricade.

"Just ignore them. We have enough to get through..."

xxxxx

::All is well?::

Ratchet handed the datachip to Optimus and nodded.

::Better than expected. I don't think rehabilitation will be too much of an issue:: He paused for a moment, then regarded the Prime solemnly. ::I am considering introducing him to the hatchlings. Nova, first. Obviously taking all due precautions and not letting them within touching distance::

Optimus frowned.

::Why?::

::I'm curious as to whether the presence of young ones has any effect on... extreme behaviour. Not that Barricade's will be that extreme in future, but the capacity is still there::

::Won't that be dangerous?::

::Not if we take the proper precautions::

::And Nova is in agreement?::

Ratchet vented a sigh. ::Nova suggested it::

The Prime's EM field registered something extremely rare - startlement.

::He did?::

Ratchet nodded. ::I think we have a processor-systems specialist in the making::

::That's... excellent. Is he not a little young though?::

::He is, as the humans would say, coming along in leaps and bounds. And that in itself is interesting:: without realising it, Ratchet reverted to scientific mode. ::He's at a far more advanced mental age than the seekerlets are. I'm running comparisons with a view to determining if frame type and function influences development. Since grounders have to be more self-reliant from an earlier stage of maturity, it's quite possible. Of course, I need a much larger population for any truly valid results, but even the data I can gather from such a small sample will be helpful...::

He caught himself and offered an apologetic :smile:. ::Sorry. I've never had the chance to study a new generation on a different planet before. My enthusiasm runs away with me::

Optimus laid a servo on his shoulder. ::It is good to see you so enthused, old friend. With luck, you may yet have a 'larger population' for your analysis::

::That would do this old spark a lot of good. But in the meantime... Do I have your permission to try the experiment?::

::Of course::

::Thank you. We'll let you know the results as soon as they're available::

xxxxx

Walker walked into the old steelworks carrying a large metal suitcase. Ellen Roberts smiled brightly at him.

"Can I help you sir?" Her eyes flicked to the suitcase. You could get a lot of money in that...

"Walker. Here to see Black. I don't have an appointment, but he'll see me. Just tell him I have a sample of the merchandise for him."

It wasn't her place to argue. She rang Black's number, passed on the message, and moments later a young man appeared at the inner entrance to the facility.

"This way, Mr Walker."

James Zender and Oliver Black were poring over a rough map and several satellite images of Diego Garcia when Walker was ushered in. They both looked up and glared.

"What are you doing here? You lost us those blasted 'Cons!"

Walker grinned and slammed the suitcase down on the table, scattering the papers.

"You could never have used them. Too big, too powerful and too self-aware. Too well-known, and too... treacherous. What I have here" he tapped the suitcase. A muted scraping and banging noise came from inside "is worth far more than them."

Zender frowned and stared at the case.

"What is it?"

With a flourish, the ex-NEST officer opened the case. Inside was a small transformer, tightly wrapped in barbed wire and heavy chains, its pale blue eyes wide and sparking in fear as it struggled uselessly against its bonds.

"Caught it myself. As far as I can tell its presence on earth isn't known yet, and its size means it's EM field will be so small as to be untraceable. But it has all the abilities of the bigger ones, without the weapons."

Zender and Black watched it with avaricious stares, then Black turned his gaze to Walker.

"And what do you want for it?"

"Access to everything you find out, and a place in the attack force when you're ready to move."

Zender and Black had already determined there were far more productive uses for the aliens than simply destroying them, but it was expedient to keep Walker on their side for now. Zender nodded.

"I see no problem with that. As long as you agree to take no precipitous action."

"Oh, don't worry. For a chance at payback, and bed and board, I'll behave." He pushed the case forward, leering. "Have fun!"

xxxxx

© JAT 12.03.13


	6. Operations 3

**Part 6 - Operations 3**

Ellen Roberts wasn't the most observant or sensitive of women, but she was beginning to wonder about the Trust. It was nothing obvious, just a sort of... change of atmosphere. She'd loved working for them at the beginning. She'd felt as though she was finally doing something truly worthwhile with her life, working towards mutual understanding and tolerance. Now...

She felt as though things were being kept from her - from all of them. It wasn't even anything she could really put her finger on; a murmured conversation, cut short when she appeared, letters arriving that were intercepted by someone she hadn't been introduced to before they reached her, the odd computer file that her password couldn't access...

It had all started when Mr Zender and Mr Hawkins had arrived. She didn't know why, but she didn't like them.

xxxxx

In a soundproofed room in the hidden maze of tunnels and chambers under the steelworks main building a little transformer was screaming.

No one could hear him - one of the first things they had done was cut out his vocaliser, and the walls of the room were lined with anti-detection hardware (and lined with lead, just to add an additional level of protection). But he was screaming nonetheless.

Walker was hovering behind the two-man team working on the little transformer, grinning sadistically. So far they'd removed the creature's limbs - four 'arms' and two 'legs' - and peeled off part of its 'chest' plating. Newman (a physics graduate so desperate to earn enough to pay off his crippling student loans he was prepared to do just about anything) was examining the 'skin' under an electron microscope while Johnson monitored the transformers reactions. A sturdy steel spike, driven through the creature's midsection, held the writhing frame in place, if not exactly still.

"So?"

Newman glanced at Walker, and beyond him to the camera through which, from a safe distance several floors above, Zender and Black were scrutinising the operation. Never able to mask his emotions, the young man looked excited.

"It's... the closest analogy I can come up with is it closely resembles silicon nitride - millions of tiny scales and links of it. It's amazing... It explains why they're so tough, and how they can transform. Physically, I mean - these scales can be reshaped into just about anything. How it happens we haven't yet discovered... Sirs, this is extraordinary. If we could replicate this material... The possibilities would be endless."

Zender clicked on the intercom.

"Calm down, catch your breath, and elucidate."

Newman actually did take a deep breath and pause for a moment, before gesturing to the microscope.

"This is a metal rather than a ceramic, but it has the same qualities as silicon nitride, superb thermal shock resistance, wear resistance, overall... strength - but magnified a hundredfold..."

Zender's eyes gleamed as he smiled at Black. "Now we know why they don't let their bodies fall into enemy hands." He clicked the intercom. "We'll examine the applications and corollaries later. Take one of the eyes next."

It took Johnson a considerable amount of trouble - the creature obviously wasn't keen on having an eye ripped out, whipping its head from side to side and trying to close some sort of shutter over the organs - but the man finally managed to pry the pale blue orb from its socket. Shimmering blue liquid splashed over his hand, burning like acid: he hissed and ran to the sink, washing it off before it had a chance to do any real harm.

"Little bugger." He glared at Walker. "You could have bloody well warned me!"

"But where's the fun in that?"

"Bastard." But Johnson said it under his breath. He returned to the table, handling the eye carefully. Propping it under a powerful magnifying glass he inspected it minutely.

"This is a very nice piece of equipment. Similar tolerances as the plating, filters to reduce or enhance... well, just about any wavelength. Microscopic and telescopic lenses, - what the hell would a tiny thing like this need with those? Do we know what function it performed?"

Walker shrugged. "Nah. Wasn't important, was it."

Johnson shot him a dirty look. "It would have helped us determine the function of some of these other lenses. So yes, I'd say it _was_ important."

Walker waved a hand dismissively. "Well, you want to try putting the thing back together, be my guest."

Zender frowned at Black. "Is he a liability yet?"

"Oh, he's always been a liability. But he's also useful as a scapegoat. We'll keep him around a bit longer."

Zender flipped the switch again.

"Open up the chest. I want to see this 'spark' thing that powers them..."

xxxxx

Blue stayed _just _within the speed limit for the drive down to Eastbourne, then drove sedately through the town and up to the Beachy Head visitor centre. It was one of those rare British January days when the sun was brilliant in an almost cloudless sky, and even the wind wasn't quite as strong or cold as usual. There were just a handful of well-wrapped walkers striding out along the cliff.

"Don't forget your jacket."

Phil chuckled and obediently pulled the heavy winter parka around him, then pulled on a woollen hat and gloves.

"OK, mum? Can I go out and play now?"

Blue was silent for a moment, then his engine revved quietly in amusement.

"Sorry. Don't mean to be overprotective."

"It's OK. It's cute, really." Phil swing himself out of the car: moments later Blue stood beside him. "Are you sure that's a good idea? You know how much attention you attract."

"I know, but I'd like to see this place in my root mode. There aren't many people here, and they're mostly... mature adults. They are likely to 'mind their own business', as you say, and leave us in peace. I estimate we have about an hour before word gets out and the crowds begin to gather, long enough for a bracing walk and some good sea air before you're tired enough for us to head home."

"You have this all planned out, don't you?"

"Of course."

Phil slapped the Porsche's leg plating lightly.

"Let's get going then."

xxxxx

Along the South Downs Way the view out over the Channel was splendid, the sea a rippling sheet of shimmering blue, the gulls soaring and gliding below them. As predicted, the other walkers kept their distance, nodding politely as they passed in typical British fashion. Phil walked leisurely along the top of the cliff, Blue pacing to the landward side and slightly behind his human. It was cold, but exhilarating, and Phil could almost feel the lingering weakness in his lungs healing as he breathed the cold crisp air.

It was just a pity Poppy hadn't come with them.

... Poppy...

He really couldn't deny it any longer. She kept popping into his thoughts at odd moments. He'd pretty much memorised everything about her, from the way her right eyebrow twitched when she was annoyed, to the tiny dimple on the left beside her mouth when she smiled, to the faint fresh citrussy perfume she wore. He always felt happiest when he was with her.

The thought of her finding someone else was... painful. And it could happen - she was in contact with a lot of powerful and influential people. He'd seen the way some other men, and several women, looked at her, respect and desire mingled, and it raised his blood pressure. OK, she'd shown no interest in anyone so far, but...

"You should speak to her."

He jumped, startled, and glared up at Blue.

"And when did you learn to read minds?"

The Porsche smirked. "Just reading that tiny em field you produce. It peaks interestingly when you're in her presence, and it just did the same. I assumed - rightly it seems - you were thinking of her. And I've seen the way you look at her, heard how your vocal harmonics change when you speak to her."

Phil sighed and pulled his collar up a little higher.

"I have no idea whether she's interested."

"Then ask her. I've seen the way she looks at you too, and while her field is more difficult to read than yours, she is certainly not uncomfortable in your presence."

Phil paused and gazed up at the transformer.

"This is wonderful. I'm taking romantic advice from a robot. You've gone from my mum to my agony aunt in two easy steps."

Blue took a moment to look the term up, then revved a chuckle.

"You're ideally suited to her, and she to you - and she needs someone. Someone to rely on. She's lonely."

Phil stared. "How'd you make _that_ out?"

"She has no-one really close she can talk to. No _mate_. That is a lonely way to be."

"I hadn't noticed her complaining!"

"Poppy wouldn't. She's not that sort of human." The Porsche's engine growled. "Just talk to her, would you?"

"And if we're wrong, it spoils a beautiful friendship."

That gave Blue pause.

"You have a point. But if you don't, you risk never knowing. I suppose you have to decide what's more important."

Phil sighed and nodded. "I'll give it some serious thought."

"Soon?"

"Yes. On the way back."

"Good." Blue turned to look behind them, and vented a sigh. "Ah well. It was nice while it lasted."

Phil looked over his shoulder: half a mile away but heading determinedly in their direction was a straggling crowd of people. He glanced at his watch: yep, as Blue had predicted, an hour.

"You want to say hello?"

The Porsche considered it for a moment, then nodded.

"It would be courteous."

"OK then." Phil resigned himself to half an hour of answering questions while the crowd ooohed and aaahed over Blue. It was, after all, good public relations.

xxxxx

Poppy stretched and looked up from her desk, frowning. The silence was almost alarming.

"Cable?" There was no answer. "Ramp?"

"Yes Poppy?"

The sense of relief was overwhelming - then she caught herself with an embarrassed giggle.

"Sorry. I thought for a moment..." _that I'd dreamed the last few years?_ "Where is everybody?"

"Cable and Livewire are with 'Spin undergoing regular maintenance. 'Beat and Stronghold have retired for a little... private time. Steamy is in the kitchen researching new recipes. Vault and Sinewave are torturing - sorry, _teaching_ - the latest intake. Castle and Highdive are patrolling the grounds. Prowl is on the comm to the Prime, discussing security matters. And Bluestreak is out with Phil. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason. It was just... unusually quiet."

"I'd have thought you'd enjoy that."

She chuckled. "Not any more!"

Ramp was silent for a moment, then hummed approvingly. "It's good to know you are happy with the situation."

And she was, she really was. She had just about everything she'd ever wanted.

Just about.

xxxxx

© JAT 16.03.13


	7. Proposals

**Part 7 - Proposals**

Ratchet's field was bristling with apprehension and anxiety. Even the Prime's servo on his shoulder wasn't helping. He _knew_, intellectually, that Barricade wouldn't hurt Nova - _couldn't_ hurt the young one, the slightest peak in the aggression spectrum in his field and Sunstreaker would be on him faster than a human could see, while Sideswipe would pull the sparkling to safety. But knowing something and feeling it were two completely different things...

xxxxx

Nova had grown quickly: he now came up to Ratchet's waist, and his mature colours were coming in - a rich deep emerald green with old gold accents and, to Ratchet's surprise and alarm, faintly glowing golden lines along the surface tracks of major interior cabling, a little like those on Knock Out and Soundwave. Something similar was beginning to appear on the Seekerlets too: the doctor was wondering if it might have something to do with one of the creators being a Decepticon, as no Autobot had them. As far as he knew, at any rate.

They were attractive - but, he thought, they could also be dangerous. A shot or slice along the line could sever something vital. He'd said as much to Knock Out, who had nodded.

"I've heard them called 'biolights', which, while not completely accurate, has a certain... charm. They're useful to medics as well as would-be assassins though."

"Hm. What purpose do they serve?"

"Do you know, I'm not exactly sure?" Knock Out rested an elegant servo against a tilted hip, fine browplates drawn down into a frown. "We didn't all have them. Barricade doesn't. Starscream didn't." He glanced apologetically at his mentor. "We were... a little too busy with the war to delve into such mysteries."

"That's something we'll have to put right, now the war is over." Ratchet eyed the glowing lines on his companion. "You'll both have to volunteer."

Knock Out was about to object, but the severe and steely glint in Ratchet's optics gave him pause.

"Will it hurt?"

"I'm a doctor. It's my role to heal, not to hurt."

"That wasn't a 'no'."

"I will do my best not to hurt. And if I do, and it gets too much, scream and I'll stop."

"That's not very... persuasive."

Ratchet's grin might have looked malevolent in certain lights.

"Don't worry. You're too good a medic for me to even _dream_ about harming you. Permanently."

xxxxx

But that was yet to come. Today Nova was going to interact with Barricade for the first time. And Ratchet was terrified.

But as it happened he needn't have worried. The Ford was seated, but not restrained. Ratchet hadn't been happy about that, but Nova had insisted - and had been able to refer his creator to the texts on human psychology that he had been studying for the last two months. He didn't want the ex-Con's first encounter to be associated with him being a captive. Ratchet had pointed out they weren't human: Nova had countered with the fact that there were so many similarities between the two species that he believed the workings of mind and processor had multiple analogies - and this was a good way to start exploring them. Ratchet had expressed his doubts: Nova had blithely waved them away. Ratchet opined, to himself, that Nova was becoming, as the humans would say, a 'handful'...

The little grounder kept his field placid and friendly, and approached slowly but without trepidation. Barricade regarded him warily.

::Hello::

::You're Nova::

::Yes. 's good to meet you::

The Ford grunted and narrowed his optics. Nova moved to stand in front of him and smiled up into his face.

::It _is_ good, though, sir. You're a great warrior aren't you? Can you tell me about some of the battles you've been in? ::

::War's over. No point in rehashing it::

::But we need to learn from it. How not to let it start again, if nothing else::

Barricade paused and frowned. ::How is me reliving old battles going to do that?::

Nova inclined his helm, expression pensive. That track wasn't going to work, obviously. Although the fact that the Ford was reacting positively was a very hopeful sign. ::You're probably right. What would _you_ like to talk about?::

"Talk?" Barricade stared at the youngling. "Never did much talking."

Nova grinned.

"Then maybe it's about time. What do you think of earth? I like it here."

For a moment it looked as though Barricade might answer angrily, but then he vented quietly and relaxed a little.

"Not really seen much of it so far - been too busy fighting."

"But you've been to lots of places. That must have been exciting. And you took care of Soundwave too, didn't you?"

Barricade stared down at the little grounder for a moment, then glanced at Ratchet and chuckled dryly.

"He's not going to let up, is he?"

Ratchet inclined his helm. "No. He's genuinely interested."

"And I've never seen a sparkling. OK. I'll play." He managed a half-smile as he turned back to Nova. "Yeah, I looked after Soundwave. There wasn't much left of him after Chicago. But I managed to get him to safety. We stayed in a cave until Knock Out came..."

Nova moved a little closer and settled himself on the ground, listening attentively, passively recording every element of the 'interview' for later analysis...

xxxxx

Meanwhile, Starstream was making the first tentative attempt at developing some sort of... it would probably never be a friendship, but acquaintanceship didn't quite cover it as they would most likely be working together in the future... with Soundwave. And as they were both flyers, taking a flight together was the first step.

The Reaper's lack of a face was a little unnerving, as was his refusal - inability? - to vocalise: Starstream wasn't comfortable opening a line for internal comms to a potential enemy. However, as he had no choice, he was determined to make the best of it - and not talk too much.

The sky was cloudless, the day hot, the sea sparkling. The few humans on the base waved at them both and stopped to watch as they walked the short distance to the runway.

Starstream paused and gestured to his companion. Soundwave hesitated for a moment, then transformed - slowly and with a grinding of metal that made the jet wince - and hovered, waiting for the Seeker.

::That sounded painful::

Soundwave's :voice: was emotionless. ::It is::

::Have you told Ratchet?::

Hesitation again. ::... no...::

::If you won't, I will. Pain is inefficient, disabling and unnecessary. Ratchet and Knock Out will be able to fix you::

::Trust - not easily given::

::I know. But look at it this way - they have no reason to harm you. And having you in optimal working condition will benefit us all:: He inclined his helm. ::Do you still want to fly? Will it hurt?::

::Yes. And yes::

Doubting the wisdom of it, Starstream nevertheless transformed and led the way up into the cloudless blue.

They kept the flight short, but even so Starstream could :feel: the tension bleeding out of the Reaper's frame. Injured or not, no flyer liked being denied the freedom of the skies.

When they landed an hour later, Starstream led the ex-Con to Ratchet's Lair. Inside, Barricade and Nova were just finishing up their chat, with Ratchet and Knock Out both looking satisfied: the jet waited until the Ford had been escorted back to his quarters then ushered Soundwave forwards. Both medics regarded him enquiringly, but it was Starstream who spoke.

"Soundwave is experiencing pain on transforming." He glanced at Knock Out. "No slur on your work, doctor. Given the conditions you must have been working under you accomplished a miracle. But there's no need for anyone to suffer."

Ratchet nodded and gestured to a diagnostic berth.

"On there and we'll run some scans. We have plenty of materials now for repairs." He smiled at the jet at Soundwave eased himself carefully onto the berth. "Good flight?"

"I enjoyed it." He glanced at Soundwave, who nodded his helm once. "We both did."

"Well, once we've got Soundwave back to full functionality - and he's proved he can be trusted - you'll be able to fly together whenever you want. Take the hatchlings too." He turned to Nova for a moment. ::Please report to the Prime. He'll want to review everything you recorded - there was information there about the human Walker that we didn't know and may be able to use::

::Yessir pops!:: The youngling saluted cheekily, grinning, then scuttled off before his creator could respond. Ratchet shook his head in mock despair and turned back to Starstream.

"Leave him with us and we'll see what we can do."

Nodding his thanks, Starstream left the Lair. He'd promised Cloudrunner and Windchaser a family flight, and since none of them had anything scheduled for the afternoon, now was as good a time as any.

xxxxx

Bluestreak regarded Phil with narrowed optics.

"You still haven't said anything, have you?"

Phil sighed. It had been a week since their trip to Beachy Head and Phil hadn't yet managed to talk to Poppy. It wasn't altogether his fault - she was, as ever, very busy - but on the couple of occasions they'd both been in the same place at the same time with no-one else demanding their attention, he'd chickened out. (Blue had objected to the phrase, saying that chickens weren't cowardly birds at all, and maligning them in such a way was most unfair... Phil wondered sometimes about his guardian's logic circuits. Though it may have been Prowl's influence.)

"No. I haven't. Sorry. Just haven't found the right opportunity."

"Why don't you take her out for a meal? My research has shown that that is a very popular way for humans to get to know each other."

"Yeah, but after what happened last time... Bad memories."

"Aren't you supposed to overwrite bad memories with good ones?"

"Yes, well, sometimes that works... and sometimes it feels like tempting fate."

"But Knock Out and Barricade are now on Diego Garcia. There aren't any large or dangerous Cybertronians left in this country."

"That we know of."

"I'm sure we'd know if there were. Don't underestimate Ramp and Chatter. Or Prowl."

Phil considered the Porsche's argument, and had to admit the possibilities of a repeat performance were remote. But he wouldn't take Poppy to the same place. There were plenty of other nice restaurants they could try.

In fact... he'd seen a place while in the town, back last year... ah yes. The Chesil Rectory. Fifteenth century building, and he vaguely remembered it having a very good reputation for both the quality of the food and the atmosphere.

"OK. I'll ask her. And if we can find an evening when we're both free, I'll take her out to dinner."

xxxxx

© JAT 19.04.13


	8. Considerations

**Part 8 - Considerations**

Bluestreak regarded Phil narrowly, then smiled.

"You spoke to her."

"You can tell?"

Your field - what there is of it - is content. Smooth. Not troubled or spiky."

"No secrets with you lot, is there?"

"You already knew that."

"True." The human paused for a moment then grinned. "Yes. We have a reservation for the Chesil for Sunday evening."

"That's excellent!"

"It's just dinner. No strings attached."

Blue's optics flickered and he inclined his helm. "What do strings have to do... oh, I see. Another of your Western human idioms. Nevertheless, it's a start. I will drive you. No doubt Stronghold and the Wing Commander will come too."

Phil rolled his eyes, but nodded, resigned. An armed guard went with the territory these days.

"So - three more days."

"Yep."

"Are you getting her a present?"

Phil frowned.

"What?"

Blue shrugged. Phil noted absently that his shrug was almost silent, the plates of his frame sliding smoothly over each other - a trait he shared with the other sniper Cybertronians.

"I read that it's usual to give your 'special friend' a little gift when taking them out for a special meal. Flowers seem to be the usual thing, although I don't understand why anyone would enjoy being given dying vegetation..."

Phil chuckled. "No, me neither, thinking about it. But I don't think we're quite at that stage yet. And I don't want to rush things."

Bluestreak _huffed_ noisily. "And how long have you known each other? Two years? Three? How is that _rushing_?"

There was no arguing with that. Phil sighed. "OK. I'll try to find something."

"You could always give her a ring. I gather human females like gold and diamonds..."

"_Bluestreak_!" Phil wasn't sure whether to laugh or slap the Porsche. Since slapping would have hurt his hand, he opted to laugh. A somewhat embarrassed laugh, admittedly. "That's not the sort of thing you just spring on someone."

"But they do on the telly."

Phil stared up into guileless blue optics.

"What have you been watching?"

"I think they're called 'romcoms'? Or 'chickflicks'? I haven't been able to determine the difference, myself."

Phil metaphorically slapped his own forehead. "You do know those are just fiction, don't you?"

"... they are?"

"Yeah, they are."

"But it sometimes happens in real life too. I've seen documentaries."

Phil held his hands up. "OK, but those people have usually been going out for a while beforehand. They're already in a relationship."

"Oh. I see. So you need to take Poppy out more first."

"We need to be in a relationship."

"But you're already friends."

"Yes, but that's friendship. It's not a... romantic relationship."

Blue tilted his head, optics half-shuttering. "I need to look into this a bit further, obviously."

Phil patted his flank. "You do that. And in the meantime, I'll try to find Poppy something... funny, I think. Something a bit different." He grinned and shrugged. "Not jewellery. I can't afford to buy her anything really good, the sort of thing she deserves."

Blue nodded. "Do you want to drive down to Southampton? We'd be sure to find something there."

"Good idea. Give me an hour to finish up this report and I'll meet you out front..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Knock Out found Ratchet outside for once, standing at the end of the runway gazing up into the sky. It took him a moment and a careful refocusing of his optics, but finally he saw what he thought the older medic was looking at - Starstream and Soundwave, spiralling around each other as they flew.

Ratchet's field shimmered with an odd mix of emotions, among them appreciation, longing and regret. It was very strange, and not at all what he had come to associate with the irascible doctor...

Then he remembered that Starscream was Nova's co-creator. He and Ratchet must have been very close at one point for that to have happened. He laid a servo gently on Ratchet's shoulder armour.

::If you ever want to talk about it, I promise I will listen and keep anything you tell me confidential. I'll even try to keep the sarcasm to a minimum::

Ratchet _snorted_. ::I'll believe that when I see it!::

Knock Out chuckled, then sobered. ::I mean it though::

Ratchet's helm swivelled and the medic peered at him suspiciously. ::Blackmail material is no use any more::

Knock Out smirked. ::Suspicious, doctor?::

::With you, always::

::Oh come now. I'm trying to behave::

::And mostly doing a good job:: Ratchet paused, then vented a sigh. ::Very well. If I ever feel like talking about it you'll be my first choice of confessor::

::Thank you. I'd be honoured:: He hesitated, then, genuinely curious, tentatively asked, ::What was he like, back then?::

Ratchet turned to him, optics narrowed, but the Aston Martin's field was free of anything nefarious. He smiled, a little sadly.

::He was beautiful. Strong, confident, dedicated, skilled, driven... he had to be the best at everything he tried::

::He made you feel... small?::

::No. There was a sort of equality between us... I was the best in my field, he in his, which gave us common ground even though those fields were wildly divergent. We were friends, and we respected each other:: He glanced back up into the sky, where the Seeker and the comms expert were now flying more sedately side-by-side, then half-smiled at Knock Out. ::You ever have anyone special?::

::No. A fact I regret, but what can I say? Megatron. Decepticons. Blackmail. Not to mention it would give others far too much power over me. Safer not to risk it::

::And now?::

Knock Out's field was suddenly overlaid with wistfulness. ::I don't know. I see how close you all are, here, and realise how much I'm missing. But it's too soon. I need to assimilate fully first::

Ratchet gently patted his shoulder. ::Sensible. Give it time::

Knock Out's smile was grateful. ::Thank you::

They were both silent for a few minutes, watching as the two flyers circled lazily lower and lower, until they transformed and landed half way down the runway. Ratchet gestured to the pair.

"Time to run some diagnostics. I'm still not completely happy with Soundwave's operational parameters. We can do better."

Knock Out nodded: the moment of near-intimacy was over. Back to work. "I'm sure he's still experiencing pain, too, though he's being as stoic as ever about it. I'll try to nag him into confessing."

Ratchet chuckled. It was surprisingly pleasant having Knock Out on their team...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phil stared, eyes widening. "Wow. You have legs!"

Poppy glanced down at herself. Just for once she'd opted to wear a skirt, a swirling affair of soft black velvet that came to just below the knee, and black court shoes with a two inch heel, the outfit topped with the tunic her Cybertronians had given her for Yule. She looked back up at Phil and laughed.

"I'm glad you're here to tell me these things!"

He swallowed. "You look... wonderful. Beautiful."

She stared at him, lips parted, for a moment - then blushed.

"Thank you. You're not so bad yourself..."

The ensuing silence could have been awkward, but Phil shook himself and grinned, and handed her a small package. Well, a brown paper bag with the top sealed with Sellotape. Raising an eyebrow she took the bag and opened it - and giggled. (Phil felt his heart skip. It had been a long time since he'd heard that. He'd always loved her giggle.) Pulling out the 'Beat 'plushie', she beamed at the officer.

"Where on _earth_ did you get him?"

Phil grinned. "Toy shop in Southampton. Someone has made a series of them - Prime, Ratchet, Ironhide, Prowl, Blue, Stronghold - and 'Beat. Shop said there were more on the way too."

"I didn't know anything about this." She frowned momentarily. "I hope they got the correct licences first. I'd better have Beverley speak to Sanders..." She grinned down at the little 'Beat. Whoever had designed him had managed to make him look doleful and cute at the same time. "It can wait. He's gorgeous. Thank you!"

"You're welcome." He glanced at his watch and frowned. "We ought to get moving. Don't want to be late."

She propped mini-'Beat on her usual armchair and grabbed her wrap and shoulder bag. "Then we'd better make tracks..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The smoked salmon with shallots, pomegranate and coriander had been delicious, and the lamb was mouth-wateringly appetising. Poppy sipped her Shiraz between mouthfuls and smiled happily at Phil.

"This is lovely. The place, and the food." She paused for a moment, then gently clinked her glass against his. "And the company."

He smiled back warmly. "Oh yes. We must do this again. Regularly, perhaps."

She tilted her head, then nodded slowly. Her voice was soft and a little deeper than usual. "I'd like that."

They gazed at each other for a moment, then Poppy blushed and lowered her gaze, taking another bite of lamb. Content, for the moment, with the unspoken promise - and not wanting to pressure either of them - Phil sipped his wine and took another mouthful of his roast pork. Poppy put down her fork, and smiled at him.

"So, lieutenant, what made you join the army?"

He took another sip and shrugged. "Military family all the way back to my great-grandfather. I never really considered doing anything else."

"Oh. But you're happy with the decision?"

"Yep." He nodded decisively. "It suits me - and these last few years have been the best I've ever had."

She chuckled. "I've rather enjoyed them too."

"I'm glad." He hesitated for a second. "I wondered - Matthew commented that you were never fazed by any of us. Military types, I mean. I mean, we're used to people either being aggressive or wary. It's not often we're just... accepted..."

She smiled. "My father was a Sergeant in the army. We moved around a fair bit when I was little, and I suppose I got used to 'army life'."

"That would explain it."

"Mm. At any rate, it never scared me." She eyed him, sensing his unspoken question. "Dad was killed in the Gulf War when I was eight."

Phil took her hand, squeezing her fingers gently, without realising it. "I'm so sorry."

She nodded sadly. "So was I. Mum was devastated. Took us both ages to come to terms. Dad was... brilliant." She half-chuckled. "Loved science fiction, absolutely adored it, and swept me along with his enthusiasm. We saw all the classics - including a whole load I should probably never have watched at such a young age! 's probably why I found it so easy to accept our visitors. I sort of grew up with them."

"You didn't do... girly stuff?"

She frowned pensively. "Not really. Never really interested in it." She rolled her eyes. "Made it a bit tricky at school. All the other girls wanted to talk about dolls, or, later, clothes and boyfriends, and I'd rather discuss the latest sci-fi blockbuster. I ended up going to the cinema by myself a lot when I was a teenager."

"Made you pretty independent though, it seems."

She chuckled briefly. "There is that. How about you?"

"Like you, moved around a lot. Did some sport, but I was never really that competitive on the playing field. Took me a long time and a lot of effort to learn to be a team player. I'd still rather work by myself or in a small group. Mum was sweet but a bit on the dim side, dad was... distant. Major Collier. Expected the family to run like one of his units. I'm not ashamed to admit I was glad to leave home."

"You still in touch?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Dad suffered a stroke in his late fifties. Mum looks after him. I hardly ever see them, though I try to ring once a month. They seem fine with it. My sister visits them every couple of weeks."

"Sister?"

"Christine. We were never close. Exchange birthday cards, speak on the phone if she's there when I ring the old uns, but that's about it. You?"

"Only child. Mum moved to the States once I left home. I ring her every fortnight, and she rings me if she has anything interesting she wants to share. We're friends, but I was closer to my dad."

Phil half-grinned. "Families. Who'd have 'em, eh?"

Poppy giggled then forked up the last of her meal. Phil followed suit, and moments later the waiter arrived to take their order for dessert. As she left, Phil sat back comfortably in his chair and eyed his companion appraisingly.

"Have you thought about the future much?"

"Not in any great detail. I assume I'll carry on as Consul for a while, at least. Hopefully for a very long while. I love what I'm doing, and being part of this world - it's exciting. My absolute top dream job." She inclined her head. "Why do you ask?"

He hesitated. _Was it too soon? Say it and be damned..._

"Because I want to stay with you. Share this life with you."

There. Suitably ambiguous. But he could feel his hands going cold and stiff with nervous tension as he waited for her response.

She gazed at him for a long moment, expression neutral. Then she smiled and took his hand.

"I would like that."

He ate dessert in a daze, and Blue played romantic music - quietly - all the way back as the humans, unconsciously half-turned towards each other, shared memories of favourite holidays and happy events. They didn't even notice Stronghold, Matthew grinning happily in the driver's seat, following them home.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the depths of the steelworks, Zender leaned towards the screen, Black peering over his shoulder. Newman, his hand shaking slightly, pointed out the tendrils flickering outwards from the central spark floating within the electromagnetic field above the solid table.

"We're still working on it, but I believe we can craft these into connections for peripheral devices. Now we know how to keep the spark... alive, we can use it as an almost limitless power source."

"Excellent work. Expect extra remuneration this month."

Newman smiled hesitantly as Zender switched the mic off and turned to Black.

"Imagine if we could harness _all_ their sparks. Infinite energy, infinite power."

Black nodded, although he looked less happy about the idea.

"I think they might object."

Zneder chuckled. "Oh, no doubt. But with what we're learning from that little thing - and the anti-alien sentiment we're slowly stirring up across the globe - I think it may be feasible, given a little time. They aren't invincible. Let's bring Walker in, he has first hand experience with the creatures."

Down in the lab the little transformer's spark was screaming, begging for termination to end its pain. No-one there was equipped to hear it, and wouldn't have cared if they could.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

© JAT 04.04.13


	9. Consternations

**Part 9 - Consternations**

Ratchet _tutted_ quietly and frowned at his sparkling: Nova had been squirming and scratching at his plating intermittently for a couple of hours now.

::What's the matter, bitlet?::

::I'm... itchy. And uncomfortable. My plating feels too tight::

Ratchet laid down the laser scalpel he'd been using to pare away micro-slivers of cybertronium to use as patches for minor injuries and focussed on the youngster.

::How long have you felt like that?::

::Couple of days now. It's very irritating::

::Hm:: Ratchet gestured towards a med berth and the scanner that stood beside it. ::We'd better take a look...::

It didn't take the medic long to work out what the problem was - Nova's protoform had grown and he no longer fitted his frame. It was time for an upgrade, and quickly. The discomfort was only going to get worse. Patting his hatchling sympathetically on the shoulder, Ratchet headed off in search of the Prime.

xxxx

"You feel that you and Knock Out would not be able to handle the upgrade yourselves?"

Ratchet hesitated, then shook his helm. "If it was anyone but Nova, I'd say yes. But... my own hatchling... I'd prefer Sparkspinner to be here."

"Then I shall contact Poppy and see what can be arranged."

"Thank you, Optimus."

"Do you want to wait while I see if she's available?"

"No, that's fine. I need to get back to the lab."

"Very well."

As Ratchet left, Optimus turned to the monitor wall. Two p.m. on Diego Garcia - it would be nine a.m. at Iacon House. Poppy had probably been at her desk for an hour already.

Chatter eagerly put through the call...

xxxx

'Spin hadn't been exactly pleased to hear the news, but resignedly agreed to travel over to help with the design and construction of Nova's new frame. Well, expansion of the old one anyway, Poppy had only half followed 'Spin's explanation of what would be required: she was debating with herself whether she could be spared and go over with him. It was so tempting. Bad memories of the abduction aside, she loved the island, and the warmth would be good for Phil. And Matthew. They were now both fully recovered, but a brief spell of tropical heat wouldn't do any harm.

Beverley had been watching her, smiling.

"I can handle things here. You should go."

Poppy frowned at her. "You can read minds now?"

The PA laughed. "Your face is very expressive when you aren't being 'official'."

Poppy chuckled. "I shall have to do something about that... are you sure? I know we're fairly quite at the moment..."

Beverley flapped a hand at her. "Go pack. I'll comm the boys."

Ten minutes later Blue, 'Beat and Stronghold, their respective humans behind the wheels and 'Spin in the back of the Defender, were speeding towards Brize Norton where Skylynx 1, their new consulate aircraft, was being readied for flight.

xxxx

The sun was still high as they stepped out into the heat of Diego Garcia, and Poppy sighed happily. Wavefront was waiting to greet her - carefully, he had grown since she'd last seen him and now towered over her - along with Ratchet and the Prime, and an elegant red Cybertronian she recognised as Knock Out.

"Hello everyone! It's good to see you all again."

The Prime inclined his helm and smiled.

"It is good to see you too Poppy - and the Lieutenant and the Wing Commander. We are relieved that you have fully recovered from your ordeal."

Both officers saluted respectfully as Wavefront, with 'Beat watching anxiously, gently lifted Poppy up to sit on his shoulder. Matthew grinned up at the Prime.

"Thank you, sir. And you have our thanks, too, for the rescue."

"We do not leave our own behind - not any more." He gestured to Ratchet and Knock Out. "I will leave you with our medics, who will advise you as to what is to happen over the next few hours. Please, make yourselves at home. We have prepared the usual accommodations for you."

That meant the hooches on the beach. Poppy grinned happily.

"Thank you, sir."

The Prime nodded and turned to head back to his office. Poppy patted Wavefront's face. "It's wonderful to see you, but could you put me down now?"

The youngster gave an electronic chuckle and carefully set her back down.

"It's good to see you too, Poppy. Perhaps we can talk before you go back?"

"I'll certainly make time. Say hello to your carrier for me?"

"Of course."

Ratchet _harrumphed_. "Could we get started? I don't want Nova to suffer any longer than he needs to."

"Oh! Of course. I'm sorry." Poppy ushered 'Spin forward then turned to the officers. "We should leave them to it. Let's get settled."

xxxx

As the three guardians transformed back into alt mode and drove their respective humans to their temporary living quarters, Ratchet, followed by Knock Out, ushered 'Spin into the Lair. Rather to the others' surprise he activated the locking mechanisms. Knock Out raised a browplate.

"Something you're trying to hide, Doctor?"

The medic remained silent until they had reached the lab, where Nova was waiting, then turned to address them all.

::I need your sworn word that what I am about to show you - and suggest - remain a secret, at least until or unless it proves a success::

Puzzled but trusting the doctor, 'Spin nodded. ::You have it::

Ratchet regarded Knock Out, optics narrowed. The ex-Con exvented. ::Very well. You have my sworn word::

Ratchet beckoned them to follow him as he turned and headed for the door that led further into his complex. Unlocking it, he strode forwards. They all followed, Nova included.

Another, heavy door led into the inner lab. Stacked on heavy duty shelves along three walls were... pieces. Metal pieces, arms and legs and servos, parts of terminated Cybertronians, fortunately unrecognisable in their disassembled state. But Ratchet's focus was on the third wall, and the heavily protected containment unit set into it. Entering the complex code that opened the door, he stepped aside to let them look.

A spark chamber, with a spark pulsing weakly but steadily within it, was hooked up to all manner of feeds and monitors. Knock Out frowned at the medic.

::What... _who_ is it?::

Ratchet gazed at them. ::His designation is Jazz::

xxxx

'Spin stared.

"But... I thought Jath wath terminated. By Megatron. Early in the war here."

"He was. But his spark survived. In all the confusion at the end of that battle I was able to rescue his spark chamber and lock him in stasis." He gestured at the somewhat grisly supplies around them. "And I now have enough material to rebuild him. I've made a start, but I need help." He gazed down at 'Spin. ::Will you help, Sparkspinner?::

'Spin nodded. ::Of course. Though I'm not promising anything::

::I wouldn't ask it. Just that we make the attempt. Jazz was... is... a fine officer and a good friend. But we'll attend to the living first, and get Nova's new frame constructed::

"No time like the present." Knock Out grinned. "Shall we choose what we need and make a start?"

Ratchet looked at Nova, who was wriggling and scratching. ::That all right with you, bitlet?::

::Oh yes please, creator. This itching is horrible::

"Sparkspinner, could you get Nova settled in the main lab while we gather materials?"

'Spin nodded and ushered the youngster back through. Knock Out turned to Ratchet and shrugged.

"OK. What do we need?"

xxxx

Nova's upgrade was carried out with speed and meticulous care. He'd decided on a Vauxhall Zafira as his alt mode, at least for the moment - large enough to handle his new bulk and size, and speedy: they were often used as rapid response vehicles in the UK, which appealed to him. Ratchet had medically overridden his pain receptors as he'd insisted on being online for the procedure, much against his creator's wishes, but the doctor had learned there really was no point in arguing with his creation...

And actually it did make the operation smoother, as he was able to turn and move himself instead of having to be positioned by the medics. Little by little his current frame was enlarged and expanded, the additional material laser welded invisibly to the original metal. 'Spin monitored closely, especially when it came to enlarging his spark chamber, but all went well and after twelve and half hours the young medic was a good five foot taller and considerably bulkier. It would take a little while for him to grow accustomed to the new frame, but at least that damnable itching had stopped!

He thanked his creator and Knock Out and immediately asked what he could do to help with Jazz's reconstruction. Ratchet slapped his helm - gently - and told him he was to rest and recharge for a further twelve hours to ensure the upgrade was operating correctly.

This once, he didn't argue...

xxxx

::How long do you estimate the build will take?::

Ratchet inclined his head, regarding 'Spin intently. ::Ah. Of course. Ms Moss will be expecting you to travel back with her... I'll use checks and possible upgrades on the Seeker hatchlings as an excuse to have you stay. The rebuild will take about two weeks, but I'd say that once the spark chamber is installed and you're happy with the connections, we can finish up the rest without you. So... say... a week?::

'Spin nodded. ::I can be spared for that long. But it rankles, not being able to tell Poppy::

::I know - but just think of the spark-ache if everyone knows and we fail...::

xxxx

"So we have a week?" Phil grinned. "Unexpected but much appreciated."

Poppy grinned and stretched out on her towel, resting her head on her crossed forearms. Thinking they only had a day or two, they'd all taken advantage of the lagoon and gone swimming, then settled down to soak up the sun. 'Beat had brought the news of the delay, and at the same time reassured Poppy that he'd contacted Beverley and she was fine with it.

"Mm. The break will do us all good."

Matthew grinned at Phil over Poppy's back and tossed him a bottle of sun tan spray, nodding at the reclining woman. Phil raised a sardonic eyebrow and stuck out his tongue in an 'yes, thanks, I don't need _your_ help' sort of way, then smiled down at Poppy - who, perhaps fortunately, had her eyes closed and was oblivious to the exchange.

"Shall I do your back?"

Poppy opened one eye and smiled up at him.

"Mmmm yes please."

Matthew licked his forefinger, smirked, and made a 'one' gesture in the air. Phil glowered at him and mouthed a silent "fuck off", at which the Wing Commander grinned widely and lay down on his back to enjoy the evening sun. Phil turned his attention to Poppy, spraying the lotion over her back. She had a cute little... constellation of tiny freckles just below her left shoulderblade, and he had the sudden almost irresistible urge to kiss it...

He shook himself and moved the spray to the backs of her legs, but not before he caught Matthew smirking broadly at him.

He made a mental note to have words with his fellow officer later. And also to make sure they never went on holiday together...

xxxx

Beverley looked worried. The reports from Hydrax House, Port Said, weren't good.

"Do we have any idea who's behind this?"

Kanya shook her head. "We believe it is a fundamentalist group, again. It is an absolute tissue of lies, but the people here are believing it. We may have to be moved."

"We can provide extra security..."

"That will not help. The fools will believe it to be part of the 'plot'."

"NEST?"

"If they are seen, you will hear the shrieks of 'White Oppressors!' all the way to Iacon House."

No one could pin down who had started the rumours, but whoever it was had known what they were doing. The alien 'visitors' had their eyes on the whole planet, wanted to take over and make the human population their slaves. Standard twentieth century conspiracy theory: Beverley couldn't believe that, in this day and age and after all the benefits the Cybertronians had brought to the planet, anyone could actually believe such bilge. She supposed it fed into human fears of losing autonomy - not that the vast bulk of the world's population had much in the first place, but those with minimal power desperately feared losing what little they had. What was it that film had said? "A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals..."

She should contact Poppy... but her boss worked so hard and took so little time off... She eyed Kanya sombrely.

"What do you want to do?"

"For now, we will wait and watch. And ensure Skylynx 3 is made ready, just in case."

"Shall I alert Ms Moss?"

"No, I do not think that will be necessary. We have advised the General: he has told us he will have 'troops' available at short notice, should they be needed." The elegant, solemn Consul offered a half-smile. "We will be fine. Sunrise will keep Ramp constantly appraised of the situation."

The Hydrax House counterpart of Ramp and Chatter was absolutely paranoid about security, Beverley knew. She had to assume 'Sunrise' meant something different in Cybertronian, because it most certainly _didn't_ describe the transformer's nature. On the other hand he was the perfect choice for such a dangerous part of the world. The PA nodded.

"We'll monitor things from here, too. Take care."

As the screen blanked, Beverley organised a teleconference with her fellow aides around the world. Everyone needed to be apprised of the gravity of the situation.

xxxx

© JAT 10.06.13


	10. Loss

**Part 10 - Loss**

Starstream was flying with Soundwave, with Wavefront and Windchaser shadowing them from above, out over the ocean. Poppy could just make them out: Phil nudged her and handed her his binoculars. She grinned and thanked him then adjusted the bins and watched the two ex-Cons soaring. It was quite a sight.

"Soundwave is very elegant, isn't he? I mean, I know a drone alt. mode is a bit controversial, but it looks very good. Think Optimus will introduce him when they land?"

Matthew _humphed_. "I don't know. I don't think he's fully trusted yet. But you could try asking."

Phil leaned back, resting on his hands: all three had climbed up to Starstream's nest to watch, and to talk to the Seekers when they returned. "Soundwave doesn't speak, from what I've heard. He communicates through recorded sound files - a bit like Bumblebee uses radio clips." He shrugged. "Whether it's because he _can't_ speak - Knock Out had to rebuild what was left of him after Chicago, maybe his vocaliser couldn't be salvaged - or because he chooses not to no-one will say."

"Mm. I'd still like to speak to him, if it's allowed." Poppy lowered the binoculars and gazed at the two officers. "He's fascinating."

Phil chuckled. "You think they're _all_ fascinating."

Poppy nodded, perfectly serious. "They all _are_, and I think it's important not to get blasé about them. But there's something about Soundwave. I mean, Ramp showed me the images of what he used to look like, what little footage was taken before Barricade spirited him away after the battle, and how he looks now, and... It's utterly different from what Ratchet accomplished with Starstream. OK, Ratchet had more to work with, but the thought of a car alt. mode Cybertronian being reconstructed into a flyer... It's mind-boggling."

"And it proves Knock Out is one hell of a medic." Matthew glanced down at Ratchet's Lair. The medics and 'Spin hadn't been glimpsed for days and the lab was inaccessible to everyone. The story had been that while they had 'Spin here, they'd perform checks on all the hatchlings and needed privacy and security to be most effective - but he'd been watching, and hadn't seen any of the young Seekers entering or leaving the Lair...

Then again, there was more than one entrance. Perhaps they were going in another way. Or at night, when he was elsewhere...

He shook his head. It wasn't that he didn't trust their allies - he'd known them long enough for that to be a complete non issue - but his innately suspicious mind had a bad habit of kicking in at odd intervals. Sometimes it was a good thing. Probably not right now though.

Maybe.

He'd still keep an eye out, just in case...

xxxxx

::Ready to go back?:: They'd been flying for two hours now, and Starstream could feel Soundwave's field flagging. The two had reached a wary but potentially highly beneficial acquaintanceship, and Starstream had become quite proprietary when it came to the ex-Con's health.

::Affirmative:: Even Soundwave's comm sounded tired. Starstream _'frowned'_.

::You are not supposed to strain yourself. You know you are not fully recovered yet::

Ratchet and Knock Out had spent several days correcting the flaws that the Aston Martin hadn't had the tools or resources to fix prior to arriving on Diego Garcia, and Soundwave was now at optimal operational capacity - physically, at any rate. But he still wasn't used to the new frame, and found it very tiring to fly. Yet he enjoyed the activity very much, and pushed himself, which worried Starstream...

::Need to recover with all speed. I am fine::

Starstream vented quietly to himself, but he'd already discovered how stubborn the drone could be.

::Very well. But we should return now::

::Agreed:: And Soundwave pulled into a slow graceful barrel roll, immediately copied by the other three flyers, and came in for a smooth landing on the main runway.

He transformed as he landed, as did Starstream: the hatchlings peeled off to execute some high level exercises further out over the ocean. It was becoming apparent that both of them were going to end up as small starcraft, and Skyfire had begun to involve himself in their training.

Poppy and the officers rose to their feet as the two flyers headed for the nest. Starstream caught Soundwave around his thin waist and flew them both up to the roof, landing in the nest. Soundwave had taken to spending a little time there every day - why, no-one was quite sure, the silent mech was a bit of a law unto himself , but it had helped the relationship between him and Starstream to develop, so no-one was complaining. Today it gave the humans a chance to view him close up.

There was, thought Poppy, a distinct difference between the mechs designed for battle - like Optimus and Ironhide - and those who weren't. While still immensely strong and durable as befitted a metal being, Soundwave, and Knock Out and Starstream, indeed, were smaller, lighter and more delicate. Starstream hunkered down to be closer to the three, while Soundwave hesitated for a few moments, then awkwardly lowered himself to sit beside the Seeker. Poppy gazed up at the blank face-place with considerable awe.

"Greetings, Soundwave. I'm Poppy Moss, First Consul for Human-Cybertronian relations. It is an honour and a pleasure to meet you."

No reaction. Unfazed, used to Cybertronian vagaries of temperament and behaviour, Poppy smiled, nodded, and turned to Starstream.

"Hello Star. How are things with you?"

The Seeker extended a claw to carefully touch her extended hand. "We are all well, thank you Poppy." His optics flickered to the officers. "I see that you are all well too. I am glad."

"Thanks. And Wavefront and Windchaser are going to be spacecraft! That's exciting!"

Starstream inclined his helm. "Yes. Although... it will feel... strange, without them."

Poppy nodded, then grinned. "Well, you could always have some more!"

_That_ got a reaction- Soundwave visibly startled and turned to the jet.

::You have considered breeding?::

::Not really - not yet, at any rate. Though I know the Prime would be happy to start increasing the species, we are not yet settled and safe enough. Poppy is making a human joke::

::Statement: the hatchling are physically yours? You carried them, did not just claim them to give them a surrogate family and a sense of stability?::

::No. They're mine::

He assumed Soundwave was staring. His field registered disbelief, grief and an aching loneliness. And Starstream remembered, from the distant past, that he had once had deployers.

::I'm sorry. Are they... do you know where they are?::

::Ravage killed by humans. Frenzy killed by humans. Rumble missing. Laserbeak...:: One thin, faintly quivering servo went to his torso, pressing over his spark. ::Autobot scout and Witwicky human killed Laserbeak::

Starstream stared for a long moment. ::Are you... sure? Nothing was salvageable? Ratchet can work wonders with very little...::

Soundwave hesitated. He hadn't personally seen the destruction of the little mechs who were more than family to him, only been assured by others of his faction that they had been terminated. But... He knew that Ratchet had been scouring the sites of any and all Cybertronian battles, deaths, or even just sightings, in the hope of retrieving the remnants of fallen mechs. He knew too that that was in part to prevent humans getting their hands on them - look what had happened when they'd had access to Megatron. He knew that Ratchet kept everything he found locked away in his Lair.

... It wouldn't hurt to ask, would it.

The exchange had only taken a couple of seconds, and Starstream smiled down at the human female.

"We will, of course, bear that in processor for the future. But now, if you don't mine, we need to rest for a while."

"Oh, of course!" Poppy had been aware of _something_ happening between the two flyers, and an odd little jolt to Soundwave's field that she could _just_ sense, and wished she dared to ask what that was about. Instead she smiled and inclined her head, and wished the two a good day, then accompanied the two officers back down to the ground.

Phil frowned as they stepped down onto the tarmac.

"What was that all about?"

Poppy shrugged. "No idea. And I didn't feel brave enough to ask!" She grinned at the others. "We'll find out if it's relevant. For now, I'm going for another swim. Want to come?"

Matthew shook his head. "I want to check up on what's happening at NEST HQ. You two go ahead."

"Want me to come?" Phil frowned at the Wing Commander.

"No, it's fine. It's not a report, just me feeling out of the loop. I'll catch you later."

Poppy waved as he strolled away in the direction of the main communications base, then turned to Phil.

"We don't have much longer, then it's back to England and cold water again."

The lieutenant sighed. "True. Let's take advantage while we can, then. Want to go snorkelling this time?"

Poppy laughed and nodded. "Yes, that was fun."

"Let's go, then. And I'll have Blue get us a picnic for afterwards."

"That would be great."

Phil grinned and held out his hand, and this time Poppy took and held it as they walked back to the hooches for their gear.

xxxxx

General Morshower looked harassed, Matthew thought as he saluted the screen. And tired.

"Problems, sir?"

"Pretty much the usual - with the added complication that the situation in the Middle East is destabilising."

_When is it ever __**not**__?_ Matthew thought to himself. "Anti-alien propaganda?"

"What else? It's gaining momentum too. Think we're gonna have to get our people out."

"Optimus won't like that. There'll be violence and humans will get hurt."

"I know. But I don't see what else we can do. If we stay, there'll be violence, if we withdraw, there'll still be violence but probably less."

Matthew nodded, reluctantly. "And the Consulate staff?"

"We can move them easily enough. Build a new Consulate somewhere a little less dangerous."

"They won't like that."

Morshower shrugged. "Can't be helped. They'll get over it."

Matthew wasn't so sure, but kept his thoughts to himself. "What about the rest?"

"Europe's quiet - they're pretty sensible. We seem to have most of the controversy theory idiots over here, but so far there's no real unrest. Our friends have provided our people with too much of a good life: most of them don't want to upset that applecart. Australia, India and Japan seem to be fine, as far as we can tell, but I'm having the network monitor everything - just in case."

NEST's own Cybertronian computer hub, Magnus, could be relied on to report absolutely anything of the slightest interest. Dour, pragmatic and wholly dedicated to his function, he wasn't quite as paranoid as Sunrise but it was a close thing.

Matthew lowered his head for a moment, making a mental note to ask Ramp to keep a closer eye than usual on anything come from Magnus, then looked back up at the General.

"Well, at least I have fairly good news from here. It looks as though Soundwave is going to prove a valuable asset. Prime is convinced of his trustworthiness, and he is apparently _incredibly_ skilled in comms and espionage. They're keeping him based on the island, and bringing him online soon. That should help make our situation a little easier."

"Good. Anything else?"

"Nothing right now, sir. I'll include anything else in my regular report."

"Then I'll speak with you then." Morshower offered a curt nod, and closed the connection. Feeling a little easier, Matthew headed off to the mess to get himself a decent cup of tea.

xxxxx

James Zender grinned. It was a malicious grin, boding ill for anyone on the other side of it. He'd just had news of a package coming in from the States, the remains of a mech who'd taken part in the battle in Chicago and been salvaged soon after its resolution by an urban bounty hunter who'd been particularly quick off the mark. The body had been severely damaged, but the spark still pulsed, albeit weakly.

They would soon change that.

xxxxx

© JAT 16.06.13


	11. Success

**Part 11 - Success**

James Zender poked at the pile of metals lying on the examination table, then frowned at Newman. "It's a lot smaller than I expected."

Newman nodded nervously. "Some of them are, sir."

"I know _that_. But I'd have thought all the fighting machines were large."

"This one was for aerial assaults. We think it was used for information gathering too - a bit like an armed aerial remote-access camera. Its small size made it less noticeable." He paused for a second, then pulled at a piece of metal that unfolded into something vaguely resembling a wing, albeit broken and twisted. "Also, we think this one looked like a bird, so it would blend in more easily with its surroundings." He shrugged. "Birds are everywhere, a part of the background. No one really notices them. Well, no-one except twitchers anyway."

"Hm. But we can still use it?"

"Oh yes. The spark is intact." He gestured to the... contraption on the large bench against the wall, then sighed. "The processor - its 'brain' - is shot to hell though. Pity. I'd have liked the chance to examine it. I believe there may be fundamental differences between the brains of different types of robot."

"What about this... transforming ability they have?"

"We're pretty certain that's controlled by the brain, but there has to be another element to the process. I'm working my way through the parts we harvested from the other one, but haven't found it yet." He scowled. "With my luck it'll be that part of it that was impaled to keep it captive. I wish your hired thugs would learn _not_ to damage them. It would make my work a lot easier."

Zender patted his back. "I'll see if I can impress that fact upon them. In the meantime, carry on. You're doing well."

Newman brightened and smiled at the rare compliment. "Yes, sir. You'll have today's report in a few hours."

XXXXX

Wavefront and Windchaser were on extended training with Skyfire and Starflare, somewhere out beyond the asteroid belt, and after much asking and considerable training Starwind had been allowed to join Sideswipe and Sunstreaker (and Barricade, who'd been declared fit for duty as long as the twins kept an optic on him) in the states, serving under Ironhide. He'd remained small, and taken on an alt mode that resembled a slimmer, sleeker BD-5J microjet, although, of course, with superior agility and efficiency. Ironhide had been pleased to finally have aerial support and was currently engaged in putting the little jet through a wide range of combat simulations. Ratchet had mentioned, with quiet pride, that his sparkling was doing extremely well.

All of them were, in fact. Nova was studying psychology, wolfing down the courses at a rate pretty fast even for a Cybertronian, and had been badgering Optimus for anything, no matter how fragmentary, that he could remember about Cybertronian psychology from his time as a Librarian. It wasn't much, unfortunately, but the Prime thought that Prowl might be able to add to the young one's store of knowledge. He was familiar with interrogation techniques: perhaps Nova could... reverse-engineer mental processes from knowing what worked to break them?

Once the initial horror had worn off Nova had said yes, he could see how that would work, and could he please go back to Iacon House with Poppy and Phil and the Wing Commander to interview Prowl for a day or so.

Ratchet had vented a sigh, rubbed his optics, and of course said yes, as long as everyone else was in agreement.

Even shy little Cloudrunner seemed to have found his niche: he'd been _fascinated_ by Soundwave, watched the comms expert from a distance since he'd arrived, and was beginning to shadow him while he slowly integrated into the Cybertronian community on the island. He'd even chosen a drone alt mode for himself, an AAI RQ-7A Shadow with retractable undercarriage - small, but of all of the sparklings it looked as though he was never going to reach anything like the size of his siblings. And while Soundwave was hardly the most approachable of beings, he was gradually showing an interest in his young admirer.

Optimus hoped that the littlest Seeker would turn out to be a comms expert too. With Soundwave's tutoring - although that was still a way off - it was a distinct possibility. The fact that Cloudrunner would also help make up for the loss of the drone's own 'family', his lost deployers, could work out to everyone's advantage...

So all in all, things were working out in surprising but satisfactory ways. It gave the Prime a lot of hope for the future.

XXXXX

Starstream was less sanguine about it all. He was perched, birdlike and brooding, at the edge of the 'nest' - now less of a nest and more a rooftop Seeker base of operations with its own comms access - when Poppy hauled herself over the edge and onto the hanger roof. The jet glanced in her direction and beckoned her closer: she strode the yards to his side and seated herself in the shadow of his leg to be out of the full force of the sun.

"Are you OK, Star?"

The Seeker was silent for a moment, then vented a sigh.

"I... not really... I should feel very proud. And I do, truly. But... They are my sparklings, and they are all leaving. I've had no time with them. I should have had centuries, caring for them, teaching them..."

He fell silent, and Poppy sympathetically patted his leg. It wasn't something she fully understood herself, never having had any maternal urges, but she knew from her female friends that, for humans at least, there was something very viscerally satisfying about the bond between mother and child.

It sounded as though there was something similar for Cybertronians as well.

"But you'll still have contact with them all, won't you? It's not like they're gone for good."

"Yes, but..." He twisted to gaze down at her. "It's... difficult. I know it's partly because they are familiar, and I have very little left in my processor that's familiar. Very little that's pleasant, anyway. And although I'm making new memories - and new friends and colleagues - there is still a vast emptiness in my... mind. It's frightening. Up until now I have had so much to focus on that I've been able to ignore it, but now..." He made an odd clicking, chirring sound. "That sounds very selfish. I don't mean it to."

Poppy shook her head. "No, it's OK, I understand. It's not selfish at all. It happens to humans too." She hesitated. "But would you really _want _those memories back? To fill the hole?" From little things she'd picked up from the others his past had been, in the main, thoroughly wretched. And painful.

Starstream shook his helm. "I can remember enough to know that I do _not_ want to remember any more. And hence I am caught between... how is it you phrase it? The devil and the deep blue sea? A rock and a hard place?"

Poppy nodded. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't... I'm sorry, Star. Will you be OK?"

"Yes." No hesitation or indecisiveness there. "I have a purpose, and work to do. Friends and family. I will be fine."

Poppy chuckled. "And you can always have more sparklings, later."

"True."

"I think that's great."

"It's certainly encouraging. The thought that we might be it - the last generation of Cybertronians... facing extinction was not a happy concept."

"Well, I'm very happy about it. You have a future. Admittedly I won't live to see much of it, but that's not so bad."

"Yes, I remember how short-lived humans are. I am sorry."

Poppy laid a hand on his anklejoint. "It's just one of those things. Just means we have to make meaning in our lives that much faster!"

"You are remarkably calm about it."

"Unless Ratchet can come up with some way to make me immortal, I've no choice. And I for one would much rather make the most of what time I have than waste it pining after things I _can't_ have."

Huge blue optics gazed down at her. "Your species is so admirable in so many ways. You in particular."

"Thank you." She grinned up at him. "So are you. I feel so privileged to know you all, to be part of..." She waved a hand, indicating the island, the Cybertronians, and the universe in general. "... all this."

"The feeling is mutual." His helm tilted to one side. "The two officers are out of their meeting now and looking for you."

Poppy sighed. "I'd better go." Pulling herself to her feet, she smiled up at the Seeker. "It's always a pleasure talking to you, Starstream. Thank you for your friendship."

The big eyes flickered for a moment, in surprise, she thought, then the jet stood upright, carefully picked her up, and took off, flying slowly in root mode the short distance to the large building that housed the island's HQ. Landing smoothly he lowered her down to the ground in front of Phil and Matthew, who waved up at him.

Poppy laughed delightedly. "Thank you - that was wonderful!"

The Seeker's mouthplates moved in his equivalent of a smile before he took off again, hovering for a moment. "You are welcome. Have a good afternoon."

Phil watched enviously as he flew back to the nest, then turned to Poppy. "You have any idea how much I'd like to do that?" He sighed, then grinned. "Eh well. Maybe one day. What do you fancy doing this afternoon?"

Poppy glanced at Matthew, who had a faint frown on his face. "Perhaps we should grab a picnic, head to the lagoon, and you can both tell me what the general had to say."

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea." Phil had sobered. "The news from the Middle East is worse. The embassy was attacked. Oh, no-one was hurt," he raised his hands as Poppy's eyes widened in alarm and she opened her mouth to speak. "NEST got everyone out two days in advance, and made sure there was nothing left of any use to anyone."

"Abla and Kanya are all right?"

"They're fine. They and the rest of the staff are at a NEST holding centre on Cyprus for the time being."

Poppy nodded. "That's something... Right. We'll skip the beach. We can talk in the mess. I need to know everything."

XXXXX

In Ratchet's Lair things were going well. Between them, he and Knock Out, with Wheeljack helping out with fashioning the frame and Sparkspinner working on the new spark chamber and the intricate system that would connect it to the rest of the internals, already had the basic protoform assembled and partially functional. Ratchet was now reconstructing the helm, trying to make it look as much like Jazz's last configuration as possible. The espionage expert's visor had survived unbroken, and his processor was slowly coming out of the enforced full-stasis the medic had kept it in since his retrieval. All the signs were good, and Ratchet was allowing himself to hope for a full recovery.

It would be very good to have their friend back. His wise-cracking banter, love of music and generally fun-loving, optimistic outlook had been greatly missed.

Knock Out knew nothing about him, of course, except by reputation, and that only as slanted by Decepticon propaganda.

"Is he really as... pleasant as you seem to imply?"

Ratchet stared at the Aston Martin, engine grumbling. "To his own side, yes. To others, too, when it helped his mission. Jazz was - is - a... complicated mech. You're probably going to hate each other."

Knock Out raised a brow-ridge. "Well thank you. That makes me feel _so _much better."

Ratchet waved a servo dismissively. "You'll manage. Just remember he was, and probably will be, Prime's third in command after Prowl. Mind your manners and you'll be fine."

The Aston Martin grumbled quietly then ex-vented a resigned sigh. "Very well." He glanced down at the form on the operation table, where 'Spin was checking connections. "When do you estimate I can look forward to meeting this exemplary mech?"

"Once we've installed the processor I plan to keep him in partial stasis for another week to allow his own nanites to repair and reconstruct his neural pathways. After that... well, we'll have to see. I'd estimate another two weeks."

'Spin glanced over his shoulder, fully aware of the conversation that had been going on behind him.

"Do you want me to thtay 'til then?"

"I don't think that will be necessary, as long as you're happy with how things are going and your part of the reconstruction is complete. I know you're eager to get back to England."

"I can travel back at thpeed if I'm needed. But there'th not too much I can do onthe the thpark ith operational. Anything elthe ith not my area of expertithe."

Ratchet nodded. "Your help has been invaluable. And it's good to know we can call on you if you're needed."

The small Cybertronian shrugged. "Any time, doctor. Now, I need to make the final connectionth. Can you thtand by to take the thpark off thupport?"

The two medics moved smoothly to stand by their monitors as 'Spin, digits transformed into minute specialised tools, bent over the open spark cavity and began the intricate, delicate procedure.

Ten minutes later, spark-support offline, Ratchet ex-vented with relief as the spark pulsed, strong and steady, by itself. He turned to Knock Out and 'Spin and smiled.

"Well done. Thank you, both of you. We'll take a break now."

As Knock Out headed for the energon dispenser in the main lab, Ratchet laid a servo on 'Spin's shoulder.

"I appreciate your being here. I know it's an inconvenience, but there's no one else with your skills."

'Spin grinned. "I know. It'th my duty to help. And it'th a way of getting Poppy to retht, tho I'm not that bothered. Though if you're now thatithfied, I'll let Poppy know we can go home tomorrow."

"That would be fine. Please don't tell anyone about Jazz until I let you know he's fully operational and revived."

"Of courthe..."

XXXXX

© JAT 05.07.12

XXXXX


	12. Echoes

**AN**: I am so sorry for the delay. A combination of the summer holidays, family, and ill-health have caused problems all 'round. I'm hoping to update a little more frequently from now on, and with meatier chapters, but I daren't promise. Many thanks to everyone who is still following (and commenting) on the story, and please bear with me...

xxxxx

**Part 12 - Echoes**

"Welcome to Iacon House." Poppy gestured to the massive front door and grinned at Nova. "Please, come in."

Prowl was standing in the foyer, demeanour as stiff and formal as ever. He extended a servo and beckoned the Zaphira closer.

::Greetings. I understand you wish to study interrogation methods::

::Yes sir. If it's not too much trouble::

::Why do you want to study them?::

::I need to know what will break a mind, so I can learn how to fix it::

Prowl stared, optics flickering momentarily, then nodded. ::Your request is logical, in the absence of any other procedure. I am prepared to allocate the necessary time, on condition the Prime and Ms Moss are in agreement::

::They are, sir::

Prowl confirmed the assertion, then turned to Poppy.

"Do I have your authority for sufficient downtime to tutor Nova?"

"Of course." Poppy smiled. "I understand that your version of our psychiatrists were rare and very valuable, and there are none left alive. I think it's wonderful that Nova wants to go into the field. If there's anything we can do to help, just let me know."

Prowl hesitated, then glanced at Bluestreak. The Spyder visibly tensed, optics flickering to Phil, and Prowl raised a servo.

::I will not ask it of you if it causes distress::

Blue was silent for a while, then relaxed minutely. "If... if it will help Nova... And maybe it will help me too."

Phil laid a hand on his arm. "You don't have to, Blue."

The Spyder half-smiled. "I know. But the memories still trouble me. It may be a way to help purge them, and still get some benefit from the experience."

"If you're sure..."

Prowl interrupted. "Both Nova and I will monitor him very closely. If any of us are concerned, we will stop."

"In that case..." Phil frowned up as his partner. "You'll say if it gets too much?"

"I will. You have my word."

"OK then." Phil watched the three Cybertronians walk towards their wing of the house, then turned to Poppy. "Think they'll be OK?"

Poppy smiled. "Of course. They _do_ know what they're doing."

He nodded, then glanced at Matthew. "We really need to check the current situation. Can we set up a conference with Lennox and Epps - and the general if he's available?"

"I'll get right on it. Be useful to have Prime and Ironhide in on it too."

Poppy raised a hand. "Can I be there?"

Matthew hesitated, then shook his head. "NEST classified at this point. We'll report back to you though, let you know the salient points."

She nodded. "Fair enough. I'll see you later, then. I'd better see what Beverley has been up to."

xxxxx

Beverley had been running the Consulate with her usual consummate skill. In the short time Poppy had been gone three new tutors had joined the staff - Sliderule, who, despite his name, specialised in the application of quantum uncertainty, Reagent the chemist, and Retort, the analytical cosmologist. It increased the range of subjects they could teach substantially, and eased the pressure on their current Cybertronian staff - and given the waiting list to attend classes here was now six months long, they really needed the help. The new arrivals were in orientation with Vault and Sinewave at the moment: she'd set up a meeting so Poppy could greet them later.

The situation in the Middle East was less happy. Hydrax House had been ransacked and bombed, the shell daubed with inflammatory anti-Cybertronian slogans. All the staff had been evacuated and everything of value removed well before any action had been taken, of course, but it was still a disaster. Beverley had done a little research as to a new location for the Consulate, but much of Africa was simply unsafe, and the oil-producing countries wanted nothing to do with anything Cybertronian, since the alien technology threatened their interests.

Though Madagascar was a possibility. Beverley had set a feasibility study in motion.

xxxxx

Newman glared at the pile of metal as if his irritation could bring it back to life. There was a glimmer - faint and stuttering - in the chamber which usually held the creatures' sparks, but nothing he had done so far had improved it. In desperation he'd even tried attaching the weak spark to the far brighter one held in the electro-magnetic field to see if that would 'jump-start' it, to no avail.

Perhaps it needed a 'brain' as well as a spark to maintain its functioning? But that wouldn't explain why the first one - Zender had dubbed it S1 - was strong and powerful. They'd taken the immensely complex device that served as the robot's brain apart, stripped it right down to the nano layer: it was most thoroughly non-functional now. Completely dead.]

Perhaps the new one - S2 - was simply too badly damaged to be of any use...

Newman didn't want to accept that. Over and above his own not wanting to be beaten by an inanimate object, there was the fact that Zender wouldn't be happy with such a verdict.

He had no intention of angering Zender. He took several deep breaths and turned back to the table. Perhaps an even higher dose of electricity might shock S2 back to life? It was worth a try...

xxxxx

Ratchet pushed himself upright, venting a satisfied sigh. He and Knock Out had finished Jazz's rebuild to the best of their ability, and the result was looking good. They wouldn't know if they'd completely succeeded until he was brought back online, which wouldn't be for another week. In the meantime, he'd stay in medically-induced stasis while all his systems re-integrated.

One more week. Ratchet had been strongly tempted to hurry things up - it was becoming harder and harder to keep the secret, and Prime was already suspicious - but that week was crucial to give the espionage expert the best possible chance of recovery.

Ratchet powered down the non-essentials and left his inner lab, securing the entrance, and turned to see Soundwave hovering at the door to the main lab. He inclined his helm.

::You wanted to see me?::

The ex-Con hesitated, then nodded.

::Query - have any parts of Laserbeak been recovered?::

::Not by me. Why?::

::I have felt... a pulse. Less than a spark-comm, but more than a residual echo::

Ratchet 'frowned' and transformed his al-purpose scanner.

::Just one?::

::No. There have been several::

Ratchet gazed at his scanner, making a couple of minute adjustments, then looked back up at Soundwave.

::Your deployers - were they your hatchlings?::

Soundwave flinched, then, very reluctantly, commed,

::Not hatchlings. But given spark by my own::

Ratchet stared. ::You created custom protoforms then sparked them _yourself_? Some would call that sacrilegious::

::You?::

::No, not me. But I'd like the details of how it's done. But later. Your own spark energy is showing a change from the baseline - I've never seen anything like it before. You're going to have to advise me. You think Laserbeak might be trying to make contact? Or could it be one of the others?::

::No. Laserbeak. But I believed him terminated...::

::We believed the same of Starscream::

::Starscream retained a large part of his processor. Laserbeak's helm was completely destroyed::

::But if you're right, his spark may have survived. And if so, we must retrieve it. Can you tell where he is?::

One overly long arm raised, spindly digits pointing north and west.

::That direction. I can be more specific if I am closer::

Ratchet reassumed his scanner back into his servo and nodded decisively.

::I'll speak to Prime::

xxxxx

"And you are sure this is genuine?"

Ratchet nodded. "Soundwave is... not a standard Cybertronian. Even taking into account Knock Out's restructuring, he is very different from anyone I've ever encountered. And he has no reason to lie. We can't risk _not_ following up on this. No unsanctioned humans can be allowed to retain or examine Cybertronian remains."

"I agree. How are we to determine where the signal is coming from?"

"Well, we can't track it, but Soundwave believes he can if he's in the right general area."

"Then we shall mount a mission. He is not strong enough to perform long distance flights yet, I assume?"

"Not yet."

"Then we shall arrange transportation to the north. From here, Europe will be our first destination: once there, we will be able to refine the goal. Our space-faring Seekers are currently occupied, so we will need to second a C-17 for our purposes, and I want Starstream to accompany Soundwave. As well as acting as companion and casual guard, it will stop him fretting over the perceived loss of his hatchlings."

"Good thinking. I will come too."

"You can be spared?"

"Whether I can or not I must accompany them. There is no telling what state Laserbeak will be in. If it _is_ Laserbeak. I may be needed. Wheeljack and Jolt are capable of taking over for a short while. I have no critical outstanding projects."

"Very well. We will treat this as urgent. I will speak to the base commander and have a plane fuelled and ready in two hours. Please advise Soundwave and Starstream. I will contact the Wing Commander and have someone join the mission as armed guard when they reach Europe."

Satisfied, Ratchet nodded and went to give the others the news.

xxxxx

© JAT 20.8.13


End file.
